Deanna and Natasha
by Martin III
Summary: [SF CD] He was an Iom soldier,psychologically crippled since boyhood by his late father. She,a Cypress mage hopelessly lovestruck by her king. Yet their mutual love forged them into two of Cypress's greatest heroes. Rated T for violence and adult themes.
1. Chapter 1: The Invalid

Author's Notes:

What with all the alternate universe fan fiction out there, I want to say right from the start that this is NOT alternate universe. This story is consistent with Shining canon as far as I can see, and all my future fanfics will treat it as canon. Obviously I can't call it Shining canon for more than one reason, but consider it Shining Martin III canon.

If you haven't done so already, I suggest you read my first Shining fic, "The King's Friends", as this novella follows up on characterizations established there. You don't need to read it to understand this book, but it is a fairly quick read. This novella is mainly a look at Deanna and Natasha's growth over the course of SF Gaiden II. Note that this is NOT a novelization! I detest novelizations! That is why I skip over many parts of the game. After all, anyone reading this has probably played the game and knows how the story goes. My intent is to share what wasn't shown in the game, the parts of Deanna and Natasha's story that the developers had to leave out due to video game constraints... or rather, the parts that I think they left out, with my own literary interpretation. :) Naturally, I don't presume to know for sure what the whole story behind Deanna and Natasha is, though I did try to follow the clues in the game.

Constructive criticism is of course appreciated, and praise is actually of good use as well. I have plans for two further Shining Force CD-related short stories, see. The first, "While You Guys Were Out", is a look at how the folk left behind at Castle Cypress managed during the absence of Nick, Mayfair, and Natasha. The second, "The Proposal", is set after the end of SF CD. However, there's no point in my actually writing these stories if no one wants to read them. So if you like this novella and want to see more, let me know; otherwise I'll (probably) move on to Shining the Holy Ark fanfics. And certainly let me know if you think I'm handling any of the characters or world of Shining Force CD wrong(politely!).

Technical Notes: The milleu of this fanfic and all the characters within are property of Sega. This story is set during Shining Force Gaiden II(Book 2 of Shining Force CD).

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Deanna and Natasha

basic plot and original dialogue(as seen in Shining Force Gaiden II and Shining Force CD) -

Hiroyuki Takahashi, Shugo Takahashi, and Hiroshi Kajiyama

additional plot and script - Martin III

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"Home

and where I long to be

is all the world behind a shady mask of green, blue, and gold

Clouds

are all I seem to see

Can I not find you in the misty dawn of green, blue, and gold? ...

Here,

within my coat of blue,

I stand presenting all for you to see and feel, touch and hold...

Remember,

I'm not to be disturbed

If you control your words you'll share my mask of green, blue, and gold "

- from "Home and Where I Long to Be"(1st and 2nd choruses) by Cressida (lyrics copyright 1969 John Heyworth)

- Chapter 1: The Invalid -

Deanna was getting a beating again. He could tell by the way the world jerked and jolted around him, as though he were on a ship in the mother of all storms. Fists, knees, and elbows took turns on a collision course with his face, as if it were some obstacle that they couldn't possibly avoid. The pain pounding in his skull was only relieved when a blow to the stomach drove the air from his lungs.

It was a rougher beating than usual. Much rougher; his left side was in such agony that he knew there was a strong chance that one or more of his ribs were broken. Blood flowed freely from his battered nose, while two of his fingers hung hideously out of joint. He knew that his scalp must be glowing red from all the times they'd pulled his hair, and he'd already swallowed at least one broken tooth. Why wouldn't they stop?

But still Deanna continued fighting back, though he knew it only added to their amusement. He swung his fists in blind strikes that invariably hit nothing but air, repeating to himself over and over that he couldn't give up.

"Haw! The high and mighty Sergeant Deanna, brother of General Hindel! A nice fight he's putting up!"

"What's he doing, trying to hug his imaginary friend?"

"Nah. His imaginary boyfriend! You wore your hair just for him, didn't ya, fag?"

"Please... stop..." Deanna pleaded, continuing his useless attack.

"Sorry, Dea old boy, I don't see no white flag. Actually, in your case it's a yellow flag, isn't it?"

"Yeah, you know the rules. You don't go nowhere until you've pissed yourself."

He'd been hoping he would, just to end this. But it wouldn't come.

"We know you can do it."

"He's damn good at it. Ha ha! Good thing, 'cause it's the only use he'll ever get out of his manhood!"

As if to add further to the truth of this statement, Deanna's tormenter suddenly slammed his knee in between Deanna's legs, hard enough to make him vomit.

His mind burned with agony, yet somehow he could still sense them all around him, still hear one of them say, "Oh man. Look what you did. Wrong excrement, pal."

The beating resumed, and it occurred to Deanna that for whatever reason, this time they weren't going to stop.

They were going to kill him.

With the strength of desperation, he burst free of their grasp and fled. They followed, calling out more taunts and jeers after him. Hindel. He had to get to Hindel. Hindel would protect him.

Yes! There his older brother was, right in front of him, tall and powerful as always. Nothing could overcome Hindel. Nothing.

"Hindel! Help me -"

Hindel's fist smashed into his already broken face. "Why can't you stand up for yourself for once, Deanna!?"

Deanna collapsed onto his bottom. "I... I tried..."

Hindel hit him again, harder. "All those countless hours I spent training you, and you have the nerve to come sniveling to me every time someone antagonizes you!"

"I... I'm sorry I failed you..."

"You've done more than fail me!" He hit him again, still harder. Deanna cringed into a ball, but still neither Hindel's blows nor his words would stop. "I'd have it all if I didn't have you to worry about, Deanna! Instead I'm a laughingstock before my fellow generals! Can you imagine what would happen to me if His Majesty ever found out that I have such a sniveling weakling for a brother?"

Each blow brought Deanna closer to death, and all he could do was continue to moan, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

For a moment, Hindel stopped. Then, taking a regretful breath, he said at last, "You disgust me."

The blow that immediately followed exploded Deanna's world into a haze of red.

----------------------

"NO!"

With this short cry, Deanna's eyes flashed open, and awareness returned. His breathing was incredibly loud in his ears, and he could feel sweat running all over his face and onto the pillow beneath him.

He immediately realized that he was in an unfamiliar bed. It had been some time since he had slept in a real one; this would be the first he'd been in since leaving for Cypress. Remembering that he was now _within_ Cypress, Deanna realized that his being in a bed could not be a good sign.

"Awake at last."

Deanna started, looking around him for the first time. The woman sitting at his bedside was also unfamiliar.

"Good spirits, you look like a cornered deer." The woman said this with sympathy, as though she was unaware of the humor in Deanna's expression. "That must have been some nightmare."

He said nothing, relaxing his head back onto the pillow. The woman was unfamiliar, but that was to be expected, and at least she was alone. Strange women disturbed him less than strange men in general, and she seemed kind enough. Her large, warm eyes, delicate cheeks, and modest hairstyle spoke of a gentle nature. There was no need to fear her, Deanna decided. Not that he could trust her, of course; she must be of Cypress.

"Where am I?" he said through his parched throat.

"Castle Cypress."

Deanna's heart plummeted with dread. He was cut off from his men, ensnared in the very heart of the enemy forces. If they found out who he was... He impulsively sat up in bed, flight on his mind.

The woman gently but firmly stopped him, and pushed him back onto the bed. Deanna tried to resist, but he found himself strangely weak.

"Ohhhh no you don't," the woman said. "I've healed all of your wounds, but that broken leg of yours needs to set. I'm afraid you're going to be in bed for a few days to come."

"You're a healer?" Deanna croaked out.

"Slow down! You've got me so flustered I'm forgetting my manners. Here," she said, moving to a stand near the head of his bed. Deanna lost sight of her for an instant, then felt her fingers slip into his hair and gently raise his head to a filled cup. "You need water." With infinite tenderness, she poured the cool liquid down his dry throat.

"Thank you."

"Wow. Good spirits, even in my profession I've rarely heard such gratitude." She took the cup away and again moved out of Deanna's sight. He shifted his head and saw her refilling the cup from a pitcher. "I apologize for my rudeness; I think this is the longest I've talked to someone without introducing myself. My name is Mayfair, and yes, I'm a vicar." She lifted his head to give him a second drink. "Well, not so much anymore, I suppose, not since my new appointment. But I'm the best healer in Castle Cypress, and you certainly needed the best, so here I am. If I weren't so sorry about your injuries, I'd actually say I'm glad for the chance to practice my old craft." He finished the cup, and she again set his head down. "Do you want any more?" she asked.

He shook his head. "How bad was I?"

"You don't remember what happened?"

He furrowed his brow in thought a few moments. "No."

She nodded in understanding. "That's not uncommon, at your level of injuries. They found you at the bottom of a cliff. You were lucky enough to have nothing broken beyond the leg, but for the rest of it I wouldn't put much value on your luck." She looked at him in curiosity. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that some of those injuries came from something other than the fall. Do you remember anything at all?"

Deanna hesitated. But the information did nothing to identify him as being from Iom, he decided. "Um. I'm an army sergeant. We might have been in battle."

"With Iom soldiers? Here?" She looked thoughtful. "Well, Nick did tell us to expect invaders. I hope that my guards are up to the challenge. You know, you -" She stopped a moment. An awkward silence passed. Then she said with a light blush, "You know, I haven't even asked you your name."

He knew that he should lie. It probably would do no harm to tell her his name, but it was a gamble with his very life. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to treat Mayfair as an enemy. "It's Deanna. Don't be embarrassed; it's my fault. I keep on distracting you."

"Well, Deanna, I must say I'm impressed that you've reached the rank of sergeant at your age." She pulled a stool up to his bedside and sat down. "We could really use someone with your talent here. Our troops are shorthanded, and to be perfectly frank, we have discipline problems in some of the young men. You see, we've been training squads of people your age and younger here. It's an experiment His Majesty wanted to try. But the only good leader we have in these junior squads is a mage named Natasha, and our delinquent young men won't listen to her. If they had a responsible officer of their own gender to look up to, they might shape up."

"...I'll think about it. I'm not that good of a sergeant, really."

She smiled at him. "It's not about how good you are. It's about how good you can be for your country. For Cypress."

She certainly was convincing; he had to admit that. He almost wished he could sign up with the Cypress army just for her. But her patriotism was foolish when you looked at it objectively. The Cypress troops were going to be completely slaughtered. What good was it to fight for your country when it ended in that?

Mayfair stood up. "Well, Deanna, be sure to give it some thought. I wish I could stay and talk with you more, but I have a hundred and twenty matters demanding my immediate attention. I'll send Dawn in to take care of you. I think you'll find the two of you have a lot in common. Don't be afraid to ask her if you need anything at all." She made her way to the door.

"Will you come see me again?" Deanna asked anxiously, lifting his head to look at her.

Lingering at the doorway, Mayfair smiled. "Not until after you're well again, I should think."

"What is this new profession of yours that keeps you so busy, anyway?"

"You haven't guessed? I'm a general."

Deanna's blood went cold. A general of Cypress! Even new to the position as she was, she must have ordered the torture and killing of dozens of innocent men, woman, and children. How deceiving looks could be!

He let his head fall back to the pillow. Hindel would have berated him for his foolishness. Closing his eyes to rest, Deanna reflected that he would have to be more careful. He couldn't trust anyone here, not even for a second.

"By the way, Deanna," Mayfair said softly, "...who is Hindel?"

His eyes shot back open, burning with fear. "H... Hindel?"

"When you were having your nightmare, you kept on moaning that name over and over. My guess is that Hindel is someone important to you?"

"Hindel... Hindel is some sort of mythological creature. It was chasing me in my nightmare."

"I see. Please excuse my nosiness. It's just that it occurred to me that he might be someone we should notify about your injury." Deanna said nothing. "Dawn will be along before you know it. Get well, Deanna."

----------------------

Dawn turned out to be a centaur. Deanna had to hide his reaction from his face; centaurs frightened him. The combination of the iron-hard hooves and thousand-pound body of a horse with the unpredictable mind of a human was a menacing package. She was a particularly cool and powerful-looking one, as well. Short-cut hair framed a face that seemed to have been drawn from a quarry. Deanna wondered what Mayfair could have possibly thought he had in common with this creature.

"Hello there Deanna! I'm Dawn." She scrutinized him. "Well, you're certainly looking a lot better now then you were when I brought you in. General Mayfair really is the best, isn't she?"

"Ah... You're the one who found me?"

"Well, it was me and Natasha. But I was the one with the strength to carry you on my own, so..." She shrugged. "So, are you feeling allright?"

"Fine," he answered shortly.

"It must be a real pain, to have nothing to do but lie in bed for days on end. Don't worry, though, I'm sure you'll be on your feet well before the fighting starts. General Mayfair tells me you're a sergeant?"

"Yes."

Dawn approached his bed, peered at him with curiousity. "You're a shy little thing. I practically have to pry every word from you with a set of fireplace tongs. Don't tell me you're still nervous around females?"

Deanna did not answer. Maybe if he kept silent, she would get the idea and just leave him alone.


	2. Chapter 2: The Puppy

- Chapter 2: The Puppy -

Natasha was making her usual rounds, checking every defensive post and barracks in the castle multiple times and chastising every boy she caught misbehaving, when General Mayfair stepped before her.

"Natasha. There you are. I need you to -"

"Right on it, General," Natasha said compliantly, and immediately strode off. Or would have, had not Mayfair caught her by the sleeve.

"I haven't even told you what to do yet."

Natasha blinked. "Oh. Right."

"And you know I've asked that you call me just Mayfair."

"Sorry, Gen - Mayfair." Still no blush of embarrassment touched her cheeks.

Mayfair sighed. "Natasha, you really have to slow down. There's no need for you to impress me."

_It's not you I want to impress,_ Natasha thought to herself. _I want to impress the one who asked me to look after things while he was gone. I want to impress the bravest, kindest, most dashing man in the whole world. He still sees me as just a lowly guard. Well, I'll look after things, and then some. When he gets back he'll find the mightiest castle this continent has ever seen. Then he'll know how much I love him._

"What is it you want me to do, sir?" she said aloud, eager to have new orders.

"Handle the drills for your squad tomorrow morning. I'm still running behind from having to take care of that young man you and Dawn found; that would help me catch up. Wait a moment... and I want you to go right now and relieve Theo."

"Theo... I'm sorry, Mayfair, I don't recall what duty Theo was assigned to."

"Watching over Deanna. The young man you and Dawn found."

At last a blush of embarrassment came over Natasha's cheeks. Mayfair struggled to hide her amusement that this, of all things, would embarrass Natasha, but even she could not keep the corner of her mouth from perking up for a split second.

"No impudence intended, sir, but isn't babysitting an invalid kind of a waste of my talents? I'm a sergeant, after all, and anyone can look after the wounded. Heck, why don't you give Luke or Jaha a turn with him? Even they couldn't screw that up."

Mayfair's face turned serious. "Luke and Jaha don't need leisure; they need hard work and discipline. It's you who needs the rest, Natasha. You're overworking yourself. A beautiful young lady like yourself should be spending time with her friends, having fun, getting to know the boys, enjoying life. Not attending to an old maid's every order."

Natasha winced. "'Old maid'? You're not even 10 years older than me."

With a laugh, the general said, "When you've lived as I have, you lose your youth very quickly. I don't want that to happen to you, Natasha. Now go on and relieve Theo. Maybe you'll enjoy talking to Deanna. He's a very nice young man, and a sergeant like yourself."

"That's an order, General?"

Mayfair bit her lip sadly. "Yes, Natasha."

For a moment she stood still, watching Natasha go on her way. Suddenly she called out, "Natasha? Try to live a little. Please."

----------------------

General Mayfair meant well, of course, Natasha reminded herself. But she didn't understand that she had already become a grown woman, and Prince Nick was the one she had given her heart to. Anything that didn't help her win his love in return was meaningless.

She knocked politely at the door of the sick room. Theo answered it, and nodded eagerly when she told him Mayfair had sent her to relieve him. "He's an odd one, 'Tasha. Real quiet. Don't let it bother you if he just ignores you the whole time; I only got two sentences out of him myself." He hesitated. "I can stay and keep you company with him for a bit, if you want..."

Natasha shook her head. "Thanks for offering." She knew that Theo had no romantic interest in her, and that made his offer all the more charming. But any sort of charm paled before the perfected masculinity of Prince Nick. If she could not even handle watching a close-mouthed invalid by herself, she didn't deserve his love.

She was curious to see what her patient looked like without blood and bruises masking his features, so on entering the room she immediately surveyed the face peeking out from the sheets of the sick bed. It was a soft and small face, with a single large, round eye peeking out, his hair covering the other eye like a cloak. Whoever cut his hair hadn't put his looks to best advantage; that was for sure. In spite of herself, she felt sorry for him.

To her mild astonishment, he was the first to speak. "Hi."

----------------------

The girl's appearance was far more modest than Mayfair's, though her manner certainly was not. Only a slight bluish purple tinge added brightness to her short, simply cut hair. Her eyes were so unprepossessing that one could almost overlook them entirely, even as they gazed upon Deanna with pity for him and a loneliness for herself. She was not tall, either; Deanna ventured to guess that he would stand slightly above her.

All in all she was quite plain, and that suited him well. Back home, he found that it was generally the homely girls who offered him the most pity and companionship, and judging by the way this girl was looking at him, she would probably follow in their footsteps.

He couldn't trust her, of course, anymore than he could trust any of them. But if he was friendly enough, he might be able to get some useful information out of her. So he greeted her while she was still wavering in the doorway.

"Hi, Deanna. How are you feeling today?" She came to his bed and pulled up the stool.

"Fine. Of course, Theo is far from the nicest person to talk to," he lied.

"Really? I always thought of him as one of the good boys here."

"Then why did you send him away early?" Deanna asked, attempting(and utterly failing at) a knowing smirk. "Usually I'm left alone for a couple of hours in between visitors."

"Because General Mayfair is punishing me." Catching herself, the girl quickly added, "I mean - I mean, Theo's needed somewhere else."

Deanna said nothing for a moment. Why did she think that would insult him? Of course having to look after him was a punishment. Aloud he said, "What's your name?"

"Oh! It's... Natasha."

He silently practiced forming the strange name in his mouth. Somehow, something made him believe it was important.

"So are you recovering all right?" she asked, fixing the rumpled bed sheet over his body. "I mean, do you think you'll be ready for battle once your leg sets?"

"Sure. I'll walk with you right out that big castle gate, and we'll cut up the Iom army into pieces."

"With me?"

"Sure. The rest of the people here my age are jerks. The ones I've met, I mean. So, what'll our path from this room be?"

Natasha frowned. "Sure" again. Deanna's conversation seemed to be pretty limited. "Take a left, down the hall, then into the central wing..." She gave him complete directions to the front gate, then finished with, "Can you remember that?"

"Sure." He'd likely have to, if he was to survive. It might be possible to slip away after they'd cleared him from the bed, but the best thing to do was escape before their suspicions could be raised. And he'd certainly be left alone a lot more often while they still believed him to be unwell. "But I won't need to remember, will I? You'll be with me."

"You'll be able to walk there on your own," Natasha said confidently. "Didn't Mayfair tell me you're a sergeant?"

"Yeah. I'm still not used to it. What do you think of it?"

"Of what?"

"Leading people. Mayfair said you're some kind of leader." This was getting tiring. Faking a normal personality was always awkward, and he'd been engaging in this artificial conversation for almost as long as he could stand. However, though he had gotten all the information he needed to escape, he still had a unique opportunity here to learn about the inner workings of the Cypress army straight from one of its officers. How proud Hindel would be if he could bring back such useful military intelligence!

Natasha shrugged. "I do what I have to, for the good of Cypress. It's an honor to be able to serve my king and country like this, even if some of the troops here make me want to pull my hair out."

"So, what do you and your squad do each day? Besides rounding up insurgents for torture and execution, I mean."

He was greeted by silence. Deanna turned to look, and saw that she was staring at him. "Your sense of humor is seriously lacking," she said at last.

"What do you mean?"

She stared at him a moment longer, then exploded, "You're serious!? You honestly think that we torture and kill innocent people here!?"

Deanna cringed, but with an effort refrained from cowering. "Everybody knows you do."

"You idiot!" She seized him by the cuff of his tunic and yanked him up into a sitting position. Pain flared through his back and legs in protest. She shouted at him like a dog defending its master, "Get this through your thick head: Prince Nick does not condone torture and executions, and never will! Ever!"

"Ow... Ow... Ow..."

Natasha gasped, her face suddenly turning pale. "Good spirits, what am I doing?" She released Deanna, dropping him back onto the bed. Groaning and squeezing his eyes shut with the pain, he heard her saying frantically, "Oh no, oh no, oh no oh no no no no no. Are you allright? Deanna, speak to me!"

"I'm okay," he gasped out.

"Yes yes yes, you're okay, but your leg oh good spirits what did I do!? Your leg!!! I'll get Mayfair yes she'll fix it yes yes yes. Oh good spirits she'll kill me for this but your leg oh hold on Deanna she'll fix it -"

"NO!" She had been about to bolt off to fetch Mayfair, but he reached out with what strength he had and grabbed her by the wrist. "Don't tell her."

She froze. "What?"

"Don't get Mayfair. It's fine."

"You're not supposed to move that leg, and I just jerked you about like some rag doll! Good spirits if that leg doesn't set right you could be crippled for life! We'll leave it to Mayfair to decide if it's 'fine'!"

She again moved to fetch the vicar, but Deanna held onto her wrist as he would the edge of a cliff. "Please! For my sake, don't get her."

Staring at him, she asked, "Why?"

Why? She'd said it herself, "she'll kill me for this..." He could believe it. And Natasha had repented, repented for hurting him.

No one had done that before, not even Hindel. And it had been his own fault, after all, for making her angry with his thoughtless accusation. Now she wanted to risk Mayfair's wrath for the sake of undoing what harm she'd done? Deanna could hardly believe that such a gentle soul existed. He didn't want Mayfair to kill her.

But he couldn't tell her that, not after he'd seen how offended she was by the suggestion of torture and execution in Cypress. For whatever reason, she was blindly devoted to her master, Nicholas the Second. Rather than attempt to shatter her illusions, Deanna pleaded to her with his eyes.

Natasha sighed. "All right, all right. Here, let me fix you up at least."

His pillow was pounded out of shape and his sheets crumpled into a mound upon his legs from her yanking him about. She pulled the sheet back up to his chin, smoothed it out. Next she walked behind him, gripped him carefully by the shoulders, and straightened him out on the bed. Supporting his head, she pulled out the pillow. After fluffing it out, she returned it to its place. Deanna's head hadn't felt so comfortably supported since his injury.

He'd kept his eyes closed throughout Natasha's operations, not wanting to embarrass her. When he opened them, he saw that there were tears on her cheeks.

"Thank you," he said, his voice choked. He felt like crying himself, but from joy. Without even looking for one, he'd found an ally in this dark and frightening place.


	3. Chapter 3: The Recovery

- Chapter 3: The Recovery -

After she'd served Deanna a couple drinks of water and at last dried her tears, he said to her awkwardly, "I... I'm not really good at talking. You can just read if you want."

Natasha shrugged and pulled out a book on fire magic from the large bookshelf in the room. "Let me know if you need anything at all - even just to talk." She made this offer because she had to, but she hoped that he wouldn't take her up on it; she really needed to make progress on her offensive magic.

There was a desk on the side of the room opposite the bed. Rather than return to the stool, she set the book down there and took a seat. Immediately she opened up to chapter 7: Targeting. She was still having trouble with directing the center of the spell's effect area, which Yeesha had warned her would be even more important for Blaze level 2.

The minutes passed slowly, but before long Natasha believed she at last understood a few of the things the text was talking about. The only problem was that she couldn't test her understanding in this room. She was flipping ahead to chapter 8 to get a peek at what the big deal was with targeting in Blaze level 2, when a voice piped up, "Do you know a lot of spells?"

Natasha took a soft breath to control the annoyance in her voice as she answered, "Yes, five or six. It depends on whether or not you count being able to change the color of any fabric to olive green."

"Olive green?"

"That's the color it always comes out to when I try that spell, okay?" Some of her irritation was creeping into her voice, but she couldn't help it. "I'm not the best mage in the world. I only know one combat spell, Blaze. Before His Majesty's father was assassinated, I didn't even know that one."

"Why not?"

She sighed. "Look, I was never interested in magic used to hurt people. Then this war started, and King Nicholas said he needed everyone to help. So now my talent is needed to fight for my country. That's why. Anyway, I'll bet that you don't know any spells at all."

A moment of silence passed, and Natasha concluded that she had won the debate. She was just returning to her reading when Deanna again spoke up.

"I know one."

She turned around to face him. "Which one?"

Deanna hesitated, his face slowly turning red. At length he mumbled, "Eegehs."

"What?"

"Eegehs."

She got up from the desk and walked over to his bed. "WHAT?"

Again Deanna was mute. She eventually surmised that he really didn't know any spells and was going to return to the desk when he finally muttered out, "Egress."

"Egress?" she echoed, but Deanna did not repeat himself. "Of all the spells you could have learned, you picked that one? Isn't that a spell for _running away_?"

Deanna turned his head away and wrapped the free half of the pillow over the exposed half of his face.

"Hey! Hey, I -" Natasha suddenly caught herself. "I'm sorry." She pulled up a corner of the pillow to clear the passage to Deanna's ear. "I'm sorry. I'm just not very confident about my magic, so it felt like you were making fun of me. I didn't mean what I said; Egress is a perfectly good spell."

With some reluctance, Deanna removed his face from the pillow's protection. His expression held no grudge whatsoever, but still he said nothing.

_Boy, he really wasn't kidding about not liking to talk._ "Would you teach it to me?"

"Me? Teach?"

"If you would. No one else here knows Egress; not even Mayfair or Yeesha. The King and a few of the people who went with him know it, but who knows when they'll be back. You'll try at least, won't you?"

It took him a moment, but eventually he nodded in reply.

She smiled at him. Then, remembering what she still had left to do, she took a look outside the window. "Oh! It's almost dinnertime." She grabbed the spellbook and shoved it back onto the bookshelf. "You don't need me to stick around and watch you eat."

"Ah..."

It sounded something like a protest, so she hurried to the doorway and said, "I'm sure Mayfair will put you in charge of a different squad, but we can meet in the library later so you can teach me that spell. Bye, Deanna."

She had stepped out and was closing the door, but the sight of Deanna lying there made her pause. It was terribly strange. Though he was a grown man, really, something about him reminded her of an infant lying in a crib. He looked so small and helpless and alone.

"You poor lad," she whispered sadly. Holding one hand to the sting in her heart, she closed the door.

----------------------

Deanna smiled contentedly and lay back. Natasha's last words had not escaped his ears, and wonderful they had been to hear. Surely there was no greater joy in life than to be pitied.

The thought occurred to Deanna that his plan to escape while still in recovery just wouldn't do. When they found him missing they'd immediately realize why he'd fled and hunt him down. This was still unfamiliar territory to him; he wouldn't have a prayer of evading capture. Better to disappear after he'd been more completely accepted into their ranks. Or better yet, wait until the Iom army arrived and then help in the conquest of Cypress castle. Either way, it was best that he remained here a while longer.

Soon after he'd decided on this, the serving boy brought his dinner. He didn't get very much time with it, however, before Mayfair arrived. A terrible dread swept over him when he saw her appear; he remembered her saying she wouldn't see him again until he was well. That she had taken the time to visit could only be a bad sign.

"Hello, Deanna. How are you feeling today?"

He wanted to answer, but fear closed up his throat. He could feel a bead of sweat lingering on his face.

"Still not talking, hmmm? My soldiers have been telling me how quiet you've been. Just relax; I want to give you a bit of a check-up to make sure you're recovering properly. Good spirits, how nervous you look. Try taking a deep breath."

He did as she instructed, and found that he indeed felt a bit calmer. He waited anxiously while Mayfair examined his body, probing gently with her fingers and testing joints.

"Well," she said at last. "You'll be happy to know that your roughhousing with Natasha didn't manage to do any harm to your leg."

Deanna stared at her in horrified dismay.

"Yes, she told me. And no, I didn't punish her, unless you count a stern talking-to. She more or less redeemed her mistake with her honesty. The more I think about it, the more I think you're the one I should be punishing." She shook her head disapprovingly. "We put all this effort into helping you recover, and this is the care you take with yourself? Not to mention the terrible position you put Natasha in. And don't you dare hold it against her that she told me. She risked a great deal of shame and trouble by telling me about it, but all she was concerned about was you. You're pretty lucky to have a friend like that. Now, are you going to tell me why keeping me from finding out about this was worth the risk of never being able to walk again?"

Deanna said nothing. He'd been wrong. Mayfair was every bit as kind and just as she'd first seemed. Maybe all the things Hindel had told him about the people of Cypress were wrong, at least as far as some of them were concerned. They'd taken him in and nursed him back to health, even before they'd gotten the idea that he could be of use to their army. Things just weren't done like that in Iom.

He couldn't play act with these people anymore. He had what he needed to escape back to Iom; pretending to be the sort of person he wasn't was just needless and wrong. He said nothing.

Mayfair made a clicking sound with her tongue. "Well, then, have you given any more thought to joining one of the squads here? Otherwise, I still have a bunch of things to tend to before sunset."

Deanna nodded. He licked the inside of his mouth and forced out the words, "I've decided to join."


	4. Chapter 4: The Men

- Chapter 4: The Men -

"The men here," Dawn announced as she took a place at the dinner table with Jane and Vyra, "...are pigs. And by 'the men here', I mean Eric."

"What's he done now?" Vyra asked, popping a piece of steak into her mouth. Though they ate in a mess hall, once every week or so the Prince's personal chef felt the pang of his master's absence and fixed one of His Majesty's favorite dishes for the troops. There wasn't enough for everyone, of course, but the ones who finished their duties for the day early always got a share of the special treat.

"Would you believe," Dawn said slowly, "...that he lifted a dwarf up by his pants and was pretending to use him as a shield?"

The two girls considered. "No," Vyra said. "It seems a bit low, even for him."

"Well, he was."

"So, did you whack him upside the head again?" Jane asked.

"I couldn't. He had the dwarf, remember?"

"You mean he was using the dwarf as a real shield?" Vyra said, aghast.

"He was. I stopped just short of hitting the poor fellow. When I realized what Eric was doing, I pointed out to him that he was being a spineless coward and an insignificant clown. He responded by citing his bloodline."

"'Pig' is too flattering a term for him, I think."

"You have a - Hey, there's Natasha." Dawn waved to her.

Natasha brought her plate over. The table they were eating at was built to centaur height, of course, since Dawn and Vyra couldn't eat comfortably at the tables designed for humans. As centaurs eat standing up, this meant that it came up to the chin level of a typical human, and even higher than that if the said human was sitting. However, the centaur tables were each equipped with two or three extra tall stools so that human and centaur could eat together if they so chose. Natasha lifted her plate of food above her head, slid it onto the table, and climbed onto one of the stools.

"You missed the Royal Special," Vyra remarked, noting Natasha's plate of bread and chopped vegetables.

"I... had something I needed to talk to General Mayfair about."

"That's our leader. Always on top of things. Here," Jane said, cutting off a fair-sized piece of her steak and setting it on Natasha's plate. "Tribute for the chief."

"Tribute," Dawn and Vyra agreed, offering up their own shares.

"Thank you," Natasha said with a smile. "I'm touched."

"Well, go on, Dawn," Jane said with interest. "How did you get Eric to let go of the dwarf?"

"Oh. Well, while he was busy ranting at me, Theo came up behind him and jumped on his back. And he said to Eric... darn, can't remember what his exact words were. But I think what he said was, 'Ordinarily I'd consider this maneuver an insult to your race, but in this case I think it suits the target perfectly.'"

Jane and Vyra burst into a fit of giggles.

"What?"

"Those aren't words Theo would use," Vyra pointed out between lingering chuckles. "You just can't resist putting all your favorite quotes into lofty language."

"Well, that's more or less what he said," Dawn said with an amused sigh. "Anyway, he told Eric that he'd give him a thrashing if he didn't put the dwarf down nicely and apologize."

"I'll bet Eric took him up on that."

"Yes, he did. Stupid pig doesn't know when to quit. Theo used his staff to whack him on the back of the neck, where Eric couldn't use the dwarf to shield himself. It left quite a lump, and I suspect it's only going to get bigger."

"That Theo," Jane commented. "He's really an incredible guy."

"Yes, but it's Eric who concerns me. When I first met him I figured he'd at least learn some basic manners after a few weeks. Instead, he just keeps getting worse."

"Maybe we should try teaching him a lesson."

"I don't know. If the lesson he got today doesn't sink in, I don't know if anything will."

"Personally, I think maybe we can get a bit more subtle than that with him," Vyra said. "Perhaps our fearless leader can come up with something? Natasha? ...Natasha?" She gave her a poke.

Natasha, having taken only a couple of bites of steak, was resting her chin in her hand and staring at her food. "Hmmm?"

"She's daydreaming about His Majesty again," Dawn groaned.

"What if I was?" she snapped back.

"There's no call to be aggressive," Vyra said. "We're your friends."

"Then it shouldn't matter to you who I'm in love with."

"We don't want you to get hurt. You haven't got a chance with him, Natasha," Jane protested. "He's almost ten years older than you, and he's your sovereign."

"Stranger things have happened."

"I don't see why you can't go for someone within your reach," Dawn said. "What about the men in our squads?"

"Are you joking?" Natasha said with a bitter laugh. "Who did you have in mind? Luke? That clown almost makes Eric look dignified. Binuto? I know it's because his parents were killed during Woldol's coup, but a dragon has warmer blood than him. Theo's nice enough, but he honestly needs to wear a sack over his head."

"Hey!" Jane said, reaching across the table to sock her in the arm.

"Besides, Jane's already got first dibs on him," she added.

"Darn right!" Jane said, folding her arms. "I'm mature enough to realize that you don't need good looks to be a total hunk."

"Well, what about the new guy? Deanna?" Dawn asked.

"Deanna?" Natasha echoed, a mystified expression upon her face. "You know, I never even really thought about him as a guy. He's cute, I suppose, but..." She bit her lip, searching for what she wanted to say. "...He just makes me feel bad for him. He seems so meek, and incapable. He's not a hero like Prince Nick." She sighed dreamily.

"You're just saying that about Deanna because he's so quiet."

She shook her head definitively. "No, I'm really not! But that's another thing. Even when he does talk, he's so strange. I was just meeting him for the first time this afternoon, and after talking to him for like five seconds he said that as soon as he recovered he wanted me to walk with him out through the main gate. When I asked him why me, he said, 'All the other people here my age are jerks.' Who still talks like that after they hit 13?"

Jane shook her head. "Weird."

"Don't get me wrong, though; he's not a bad guy. Turns out he actually knows the Egress spell, and he agreed to meet up with me in the library later to teach it to me."

The others immediately stopped eating and stared at her.

She fidgeted. "What? He'll be out of bed in a day or two."

Vyra cleared her throat. "All that protest about Deanna being a viable love interest, and you already have a date with him?"

"It's not a date," Natasha said darkly. "I want to learn Egress. It's a very useful spell. Have you forgotten that even Prince Nick had to use it once?"

"Okay, okay; I've put it badly. Let's just say that there's a good chance that something more than studying is going to occur in the library between now and when you've mastered Egress."

Natasha gasped. "What kind of woman do you think I am?"

"Not kissing, silly! Get your mind out of the mud pit! I mean you're bound to get to know each other better."

"My thoughts exactly," Dawn said. "It'll take you hours at least to learn Egress. You can't possibly talk about nothing but magic for that long."

Natasha was silent a moment in thought. The others watched her, waiting for her to acknowledge that they were right. At last she said, "Would you like to back that statement with money, Dawn?"

"What?"

"I'll bet ten gold coins that I can learn Egress from Deanna without even one off-topic sentence passing my lips in that library. Heck, let's make it twenty gold coins!" She slapped her money purse on the table.

A moment of silence passed. Vyra looked at Dawn, emphatically shaking her head _No_.

Dawn said, "Ten gold coins. Let's keep it friendly, okay?"

"Okay. Okay." She relaxed back onto the stool with a slight laugh. "Woah. Sorry; I got a little giddy there. Y'know what, this is silly. Forget the bet."

"I don't know," Jane put in. "As long as we're keeping it friendly, this could be interesting. But why don't we split the bet; make it me and Natasha versus Vyra and Dawn?"

"You want to split with me? I thought you agreed with them."

"I do. But this is just for fun."

"Very well," Vyra said. "We're each in for five gold coins, then? Let's shake on it."

Linking their hands in a circle by hooking each thumb with its neighbor's pinkie, the women solidified their entertainment for the coming week.


	5. Chapter 5: The Orientation

- Chapter 5: The Orientation -

Luke stared intensely at Deanna's bare leg as he systematically lifted, poked, and felt at it. Too intensely, in fact; Deanna couldn't help but feel like a specimen of a rare magical species rather than a person. He fidgeted helplessly when Luke turned his deadpan stare on his face for a few moments.

At length Luke released his leg and pronounced, "Well, ahem, your leg seems to have set just fine. You should be functioning exactly as you were before your accident, but of course you _must_ let me know if anything different occurs." He tilted his head to the ceiling and imperiously wiped at his chin with one finger. The young monk's posturing, imposed as it was on a bulbous body with a shaved head seated upon a practically non-existent neck, was quite comical. Deanna was too afraid of the monk to laugh at him, however.

Looking back to his patient again, Luke said, "There remains only one important treatment to be administered. If I do not give it to you, the _slightest_ blow to your leg may cause the fracture to break through anew, leaving you more crippled than before. Are you, ahem, prepared to receive it?"

Deanna nodded. In response, Luke extended the middle finger of his right hand to him, while keeping the rest of his fingers balled in a fist. In a thick, solemn voice, he commanded, "Pull my finger."

A minute of two later, Deanna at last walked away from his sick room, his face burning red as he listened to Luke still at his bedside, and still roaring with laughter. _Why do I always have to be so trusting?_

He despondently looked around the hall, but Natasha wasn't there either. Well, she hadn't exactly agreed to make his first walk with him, had she? Somewhat the opposite, in fact. Still, he would have liked her company.

Not having anything better to do, he followed Natasha's directions to the front gate of Castle Cypress. The halls were less gloomy than he would have expected, with simple windows admitting light to see the tapestries and paintings that decorated the place. It was poor defensive design. But then, he admitted, this was the capital of a kingdom whose supremacy had been undisputed for generations. A castle which was a source of pride and comfort would be of more value to Cypress then yet another impenetrable fortress.

The soft clacking of his boots on the stones of the castle was pleasing to his ear, and he observed the paintings and tapestries as he passed through the hall. There was a common thread of power among them, but the people portrayed in the paintings looked less malevolent than he'd expected. There was also a sword displayed on the wall, a legendary blade wielded by King Salius I, according to the plaque.

With a sigh, he stepped up to the front gate and took the side door outside. He was beginning to feel sorry that these people had to be wiped out. If only there was no war.

It was a gloomy day outside, but the air was quite refreshing. He had to remind himself that it was not the air of freedom; not yet. All the same, he was glad to be here.

"Deanna? Is that you?"

It was Natasha's voice, but he nonetheless felt a bit awkward at being taken by surprise. He didn't answer her or turn around. Instead, she came to his side.

"It is you," she said with some surprise. "I remembered you said you'd come here. I just heard Luke laughing and realized I'd missed you getting up. I'm even more sorry I didn't see it now, because you look so much better on your feet than you do sick in bed... hey, are you listening to me?"

He'd been afraid to look at her, but at her implied command he turned his head. She was dressed in plain mage's robes, just as she had been at their first meeting, and her eyes still shone with gentleness. "I'm listening," he said softly.

She paused, squinting at him pleasantly. "You know... if you didn't slouch so much, you'd actually be quite handsome."

He made no move to correct his posture, so after a moment she continued, "It was you Luke was laughing at, wasn't it? You know, you are his superior officer; you don't have to take that from him. I sure don't."

Deanna shrugged. He was pleased that she was concerned about him, but there was simply no point in standing up to people like Luke. They either teased him more, or they called his bluff and beat the stuffing out of him.

"What's that mean? I wouldn't have expected it, but you're actually pretty well built." She reached out and gently squeezed his bicep through the cloth of his tunic. "Don't you realize what you have there? You could hang him out to dry."

Deanna opened his mouth, but no words managed to come out. Girls had touched him before, of course, but in this case there was the awkward awareness of the fact that they were alone.

_Dammit!_ he thought to himself. _What am I so worried about? Nothing's going to happen._

"I'm sorry," she said, releasing his arm. "I didn't know you were sensitive about people touching you."

He wanted to tell her that it was okay, but he worried that she might misunderstand. He watched her soft, beautiful eyes, waiting for her to speak again.

"That's the way it is in my family. We were always touching, feeling, sharing contact." She sighed, staring out into the distance. "I miss them."

Taking a swallow, Deanna worked up the courage to speak. "What happened?"

She shrugged. "They were killed by those damn Iom worshippers when I was young. The same way Prince Nick lost his father. I'm the last of my line left, so far as I know." She turned to look at him again. "I'm sorry. Here you are, back on your feet again, and I talk to you about death. Do you still have family?"

"I have an older brother, back home." He paused, then added, "I'm such a disappointment to him."

Natasha stared. "A sergeant at your age, and he's disappointed in you?"

He said nothing, and on impulse looked away from her again.

"Look... I have a bunch of stuff I have to look to today, and I really should get going. But... you did mean it when you agreed to teach me Egress, right?" He nodded. "Mayfair will be getting you settled in for the next day or so, but could you meet with me before dinner tomorrow? I'll be free then."

"Sure."

"I'll see you, then."

As she walked away, Deanna cursed himself for a fool. Why had he blurted out to her what a disappointment he was to Hindel? She was the kindest, most sympathetic person he had ever met; was he hoping that she would let him cry on her shoulder about his failings, like a mother with her child? Deanna snorted in self-derision. Even he should have more pride than that.

Or was it something else? Was he trying to one-up her sorrow over her family with his own troubles? Because his kinship with the people who'd killed them made him feel responsible?

A new voice cut off that thought. "How does it feel to be back on solid legs again, Deanna?"

He spun his head around; it was Mayfair. He gave a shrug in answer to her query. The truth was that his legs still felt a bit weak, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

The splendid view of the Cypress countryside was blocked out as Mayfair came to stand in front of him. He looked to the ground. "Well, are you going to talk to me at all today?"

He gave no answer, and that was her answer. "Well, I suppose I can accept that. You're not mad at me, are you?" He shook his head. "You're just not used to the people here yet, are you? But you seem to get along well with Natasha. I saw you two talking just now. ...Don't worry; I never eavesdrop. It's just that I wanted to let you finish your conversation before we start your orientation. Are you ready to see your new room?"

When he didn't reply, she simply sighed, "Well, come along, then," and began walking. He followed, carefully committing their route to memory.

"Usually a new recruit is assigned a roommate, but since most of the troops are marching on Iom now, we have plenty of extra rooms. Since you seem a little nervous around most of the boys here, I thought I'd offer you the option of having a room to yourself. You can always move in with another boy later." She stopped to turn around and look at him. "Well? Do you want a room to yourself?"

Deanna nodded, managing to conceal his enthusiasm for the idea.

"Good spirits, when will I again hear words from that mouth? ...Anyway, here we are."

----------------------

Deanna spent the afternoon learning the rules, decorum, layout, and defensive qualities of Castle Cypress from Mayfair. It should have occurred to him beforehand that this would be an advantage of joining the Cypress army, he realized. Here he was, getting a guided tour to the military strengths and weaknesses of the enemy capital! In his former rush to escape, he had overlooked the incredible information gathering possibilities open to him. He'd have so much to tell Hindel when he got back.

Of course, he really had nothing to congratulate himself for. If the Cypressians were as wary as his own people, they would have finished him off when they found him instead of nursing him back to health. The fact that he was alive, well, and bearing vital military intelligence had everything to do with the kindness and trusting nature of his hosts, and absolutely nothing to do with his capacity for espionage.

Mayfair showed him the mess hall last, leaving him to his own devices for dinner. He was able to snatch a corner of an empty table, but had only a few minutes to himself before he was joined by several fellow soldiers eager to meet the latest recruit. They weren't too aggressive in trying to solicit his conversation, however, and he was able to get by with merely nodding or shaking his head. He knew that, were he staying long, they would soon learn to simply leave him be.

After dinner he took a walk outside. Instinctively he took note of the positions of the sentries, but what drew most of his focus was how equally splendid the land was in evening as in daylight, how the trees stirring in the wind made the shadows dance upon the new grass. He'd never had the opportunity to visit such beautiful country in Iom. And in spite of himself, he thought again of Natasha. She, too, had made his stay here more than bearable. He wanted to be her friend.

Was it possible? If he taught her that spell, would he be her friend?

When he went to his new bed, Deanna's sleep was long and deep, but tainted by a frightening dream in which he and Hindel lit a fire and burned down the entire world.

----------------------

After breakfast the next morning, Deanna waited in his room for Mayfair to arrive, as he had been instructed. She greeted him as cordially as ever and said it was time to introduce him to his squad. As soon as he was appropriately dressed, she led him outside to a training field where eleven soldiers were already waiting, including five centaurs.

Deanna gulped. Maintaining order in the Iom army(or trying to, rather) had been very far from easy, but at least they had never forced him to work with centaurs. No one had told him that the Cypressians failed to segregate their troops by race. There were a few dwarves in the company as well, though that part hardly bothered him.

"One moment, Deanna," Mayfair said to him softly, then barked out, "Eric!"

One of the centaurs stepped forward. "Yes, General?"

"We have a new recruit, so now is a good time for shifting the lineup of the squads a little. From now on you'll be in Natasha's squad."

"What! Why!?"

"Dawn requested that you be transferred. She tells me you've been constantly giving her grief."

"Damn lies!" Eric snarled, making Deanna inadvertently take a step back. "She's just jealous, that's all, because she knows I'm more high-born than her!"

Mayfair gave him a weary smile. "She couldn't care less about your breeding, Eric. In fact, she told me in as many words that she has heard the phrase 'blood of royalty' so many times in the past few weeks that the words have lost all meaning. And need I remind you that I have witnessed more than one of your shenanigans myself?"

"So that's why Dawn is late today," he muttered. "She didn't have the guts to face me with her backstabbing."

"Well, Eric, you've just earned yourself cleaning duty for the next week with that remark. Not that Dawn's behavior is any of your business, but I ordered her to wait until I'd finished with you before coming to training today. Unless you'd like to sign up for more undignified chores, I suggest that you trot over to your new squad."

As he stomped off, Eric called over his shoulder, "Martial law in Cypress won't last forever! When I'm returned to my rightful status, everyone who's messed with me will be kissing my tail in apology!"

"Good spirits, what pointless directions your mind turns in, Eric. And 'martial law'? You shouldn't use any uncommon phrases unless you really know what they mean. Give my apologies to Natasha for putting the extra burden on her."

As Eric passed beyond the range of hearing, she turned back to the squad and said, "Just so everyone knows, martial law is a system in which the army rules over the people of a country. The system Eric was referring to is the suspension of aristocratic status within the military, which His Majesty just recently instituted in order to increase order and efficiency. The reasons for the two systems are similar, but the similarities end there." To Deanna, she said, "By the way, that's usually not how we discipline people here. It's better to remind misbehaving soldiers of their duty to Cypress than to throw hollow punishments at them. But Eric..." She shook her head. "Eric is hopeless.

"Now, everyone, I'd like you all to meet Deanna. He's still feeling a bit shy, so I'll be directing the drills for today, but you should get used to thinking of him as your new leader. Ah, there you are, Dawn," she said, noting the centaur's arrival. There were now thirteen troops in the group, counting two that had come during Eric's dismissal, a human and a berserker. "Just in time. We'll go around, starting with you... introduce yourselves to Deanna."

Besides Dawn, Deanna recognized Theo and Dave as two of the boys who had looked after him during his recovery. He made an effort to commit those three names to memory. It would be nice to remember the whole squad, but Deanna sincerely doubted that he'd be able to recall more than five.

Once the introductions were over, Deanna quietly joined their ranks, and Mayfair began the drills. They were startlingly different from his regimen in Iom, focusing less on obedience and strength building than on self-discipline and cooperation with the other members of the squad. This made the drills rather awkward for him, especially when he was required to work with one of the centaurs. Thankfully, at the least none of the others yelled at him or mocked him when he was slow getting into one of the exercises. The lack of group pressure was more refreshing than water from the sweetest springs of Iom.

When drills were finished, Mayfair sent them to their guard posts. "The enemy may strike on any day, at any hour, at any place," she reminded them. "The survival of beloved Cypress depends on you being ready at that hour, in that place."

They divided up the guard posts among themselves, giving Deanna the first choice. When he arrived at his appointed spot, he found another soldier waiting there to be relieved by him.

There were two other guards within eyeshot of his post, so any attempt to flee would end badly. Moreover, to his consternation he found that Mayfair's words kept on ringing in his head. "The survival of beloved Cypress..." Why did such a thing seem so terribly precious to him?

The temptation to do what he'd in effect said he would do, to guard Castle Cypress, was almost irresistible. He'd always hated being on the offensive side. He wanted to play defense.

_But this isn't a game, dammit! You're here to fight for Iom!_

Yet the realization of the high stakes at hand did nothing to change his inclination to turn traitor. All he had back in Iom to fight for was Hindel, and a god that he'd never been able to understand. In the short time he'd been in Cypress, he'd found a dozen things to cherish and preserve.


	6. Chapter 6: The Library

- Chapter 6: The Library -

Deanna discovered that the quality of gentleness, far from being limited to just Natasha, was almost a common feature of the people of Cypress. In spite of his weakness, they all welcomed him in and took no advantage of him. It was a startling change from the life he'd known in Iom.

Yet common as that characteristic was, it was brought to a perfection in Natasha that he still had seen in no one else. He anticipated his meeting with her in the library as the highlight of his day. When he arrived there first, the possibility of her not showing gnawed at him. And when she arrived, the sight of her filled his breast with a sensation he could only name as hope.

----------------------

"Should the three of us all be watching together? If he sees that we're here every time..."

"I just want us all to see her first day, Dawn. After that we can take turns."

"Besides, he is a bit oblivious. Rather too wrapped up in himself to notice us, I'd say."

"I dunno. Right now he looks so... so anxious for Natasha to show up. Poor guy. Do you think he digs her?"

"I never thought of that, Jane. Could be."

"I hope not. That'd be so sad."

Vyra sighed. "True. Still, from what she told us, I sincerely hope that she can do better than him. So, did Mayfair approve the transfer?"

"She did," Dawn answered. "I'm still not sure I like this plan, though."

"Why not? Personally, I think it may be one of Natasha's most insightful plans yet. Eric does seem to stir up the most trouble when you're around to stop him. It makes perfect sense that he thrives on the attention he gets from you. So if we just take him away from you..."

"I know, I know. But if he continues to be a menace, I'm worried Natasha -"

"Shhh, you two. Here she is."

----------------------

"I see you found a book."

For a few moments, Deanna just stared at her blankly. She was going to ask him if he was allright when he at last blurted out, "Oh! Yes. It's, um..."

"A good one?"

"Yes... I think so."

Natasha frowned as she took a seat beside him. "Are you saying you picked one that you haven't read?"

"Yes, um... The book I used to learn Egress isn't here."

"You're kidding." She cast her gaze around the vast library, as if to make sure that its collection was still as impressive as it was when she visited it four days ago. "I thought Castle Cypress had every spell book in the country."

"You like to visit this library a lot?"

It was a near thing, but Natasha's mind immediately snapped on the defensive. She said quickly, "Well, I'm sure this book is fine. How do we start?"

Deanna was startled, but he almost immediately answered, "Well... The first thing to understand about Egress is that it's basically an instant travel spell. It lets you instantly go to a place that you've been to recently." He hesitated a moment. "I guess a good final test would be for you to Egress outside the library."

"That seems so... so small a thing. Shouldn't a final test require me to Egress a lot farther than that?"

He shook his head. "Once you've learned Egress, one place is as easy to go to as another. You see, um... there are just two parts to doing the spell right. One is channeling the magic over your body, and the bodies of anyone else you want to Egress. The other is thinking of the place you want to go, and imagining yourself there."

"Channeling the magic over the body... Imagining myself there..."

"The second part was always easy for me, because I like to imagine things a lot. I imagine my brother and I going to familiar places, but strange things happening to us there. Do you imagine things much?"

"Well, we should probably concentrate on the magic channeling part first, right?" Natasha heard her friends giggling. She clenched her teeth; to think that it had been she who'd proposed this.

"Um... sure." Deanna idly poked around in his ear with a finger. He seemed nervous, somehow. For one thing, his face was flush. "Well, um, the Egress magic is in the..." He flipped quickly through the early pages of the book. "Um... in the Fourth Spectrum. Which... if you're familiar with..."

"I've read about it a few times. I don't know any of the spells that use it, though." She realized that it was likely the large amount of space between them that was making Deanna nervous, so she scooted her chair over until the sleeve of her robes pressed lightly against his arm. Impossibly, he became even more nervous.

"Ah... well... you just need to... to, um... try to get in touch... um... touch... with your..."

He was perceptibly suffering. Natasha's heart ached in sympathy; it was too much for her to let it continue. She put a hand on his shoulder and said to him in a reassuring tone, "Deanna, relax..."

Then she remembered the bet. Hurriedly she added in a scholarly tone, "...and explain to me how to use the Fourth Spectrum."

Hearing a thumping noise behind her, Natasha turned around. Vyra was pounding on the table with her fist, her face pressed against its surface in a fit of silent hysterics. Beside her, Dawn trembled with mirth. Jane was oddly sombre as she sat hunched up on her high stool, studying her and Deanna with a thoughtful, melancholy expression.

Cursing the three of them under her breath, Natasha turned back to Deanna. In spite of the clinical note on which she'd ended, her reassurance apparently had calmed him down. He continued, "Well, uh, it's all about getting the feeling that you can trust your magic to guide and protect you. If you think of..."

He was fairly good at explaining it, and by the end of the session Natasha already felt that she was starting to channel the Fourth Spectrum. The only trouble was that she could only hold it for a few seconds.

"You don't really need to hold it that long to cast Egress," Deanna explained. "But to be safe you should be able to channel the magic for at least five seconds, or the spell could miscast. Besides, you're a serious mage, and, um..."

"I might want to learn spells that need you to channel the Fourth Spectrum for much longer?"

"Yeah. ...I mean, um, not that I'd know or anything..." He nervously put a hand through his hair.

"Well, it's a reasonable guess. Anyway, I really have to go now. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure. Ah... by the way... in the west hall I saw this portrait of a man. He just... looked really calm and... distant. Real tall, blond hair. Do you, uh, know -"

Natasha didn't give Deanna the chance to finish that thought. She was on her feet and heading out the door by the time he got to "blond hair".

Vyra, Dawn, and Jane met her on the way to dinner. Smiling, Vyra said to her, "Well, I would say that that performance is already worth the expenditure of five gold coins."

"Oh, come on. Honestly, what was so funny about that?"

"The fact that you were wrong, Natasha, and you're still winning the bet!" Dawn laughed. "You were bending over backwards to stay on topic. I've never seen you act like anything other than your true self before, but you're certainly making up for it now!"

"Well put, Dawn," Vyra added, laughing as well. "There are few things as amusing as watching a novice fumble through her first experience with acting. You were magnificent, Natasha."

"I'm glad you guys are having fun," Natasha said, smiling in spite of herself. She tried injecting her voice with sarcasm, but failed. "It's not so much fun when you're the amusement."

"What have you got to complain about?" Dawn said, laying her hand on Natasha's shoulder. "You're learning Egress, just like you wanted, and you're winning five gold coins on the way. We're your friends; you do know that we're laughing with you, not at you, don't you?"

"Well, yes..." The smile still would not leave her face.

"Hah! You do see that it's funny! What a good sport."

Jane spoke up, "We're not laughing at Deanna, are we?"

"If we are, he doesn't know it. And we aren't."

"What's the matter, Jane?" Vyra asked. "Did you... notice something about Deanna?"

Jane shook her head. "No. Nothing."

----------------------

"...not just a matter of seeing and feeling the place. It's a matter of knowing that you're already there," Deanna explained, and then suddenly flushed. "Um, I mean..."

"No; I think that's a good way of putting it. Let me try it again." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a few seconds. Then she opened them, held out a hand, and whispered, "Egress."

A crackle of magic around her, and she was gone.

For almost a full minute, Deanna stared at the place where Natasha had been. It felt as though she had Egressed out of his life.

_But that's nonsense. She's still here, at the castle, a member of a different squad from me. Nothing's changed._

Still he sighed as he considered the amazing feat of her completely mastering Egress in only two sessions. So brief a time, in comparison to what he had expected... and had hoped for, to be honest. Nothing he could do about it, though. Deanna closed the book and returned it to its shelf.

Somehow, he couldn't stifle a feeling of disappointment, as though a chance had been lost forever. With a hunch of his shoulders, he walked out through the library doors.

Natasha was still standing there. She was in the middle of parting with a pair of female centaurs; he recognized one as Dawn. Once they were gone, she turned around to face him.

"Um. Congratulations."

"Congratulations, yourself. You're a very good teacher."

"Glad I could help," he mumbled, and made his way past her towards the mess hall.

"Gadrios the first."

"What?"

"The portrait," Natasha continued to say to his back. "...that you saw in the west hall. It's of Gadrios I, Prince Nick's father. As brave, powerful, and intelligent as his son, but not nearly as kind."

All was silent for a few moments.

"It's not important, I guess," Natasha said, her tone diminished. "But you did ask."

Deanna heard her footsteps turn and recede. His breath drew in, freezing him for a moment, before he desperately blurted out, "I'll... I'll see you soon. Won't I, Natasha?"

Her footsteps stopped.

"I'm going to be pretty busy until Prince Nick returns. Meal times are the only times I'll be free at all, and I like to eat with my girl friends." She paused briefly. "But... I'm sure we'll run into each other."


	7. Chapter 7: Trial by Fire

- Chapter 7: Trial by Fire -

Having finished drills with Alex's squad, Mayfair went to check on the squads performing guard duty. Opening the heavy front doors of Castle Cypress, she prepared herself for the worst, though to be fair the worst hadn't happened in over a month.

"Is everyone at their posts?" She looked around, and was pleasantly surprised. Deanna's group was patrolling the outer area with a firm vigilance; Eric's removal had apparently taken all the tendency towards distraction out of the group. Natasha's squad marched along the inner side of the moat, and outmatched the rigid adherence of Deanna's squad with a lively alertness.

In point of fact, the one matter for concern was Natasha herself being on duty. Vyra had been scheduled to relieve her nearly an hour ago, and it was unlike the well-spoken centaur to shirk from her duties. It was clear that Natasha was overdoing things yet again.

Concern riding her mind, Mayfair approached her. "Natasha, are you alright?" When the young guard looked back with a puzzled expression, she elaborated, "I've been worried about you. You've been doing double guard duty lately."

Natasha gave a dismissive wave of her head; her thoughts were clearly elsewhere. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

She was a tough nut to crack. Wasn't there anything that could make her want to live for her own happiness in the few years of youth she had left?

A sudden inspiration came to Mayfair. "I've seen you and Deanna talking occasionally," she said in a conversational tone. "You appear to be the only one he talks to. Can you keep him near you, and be his friend?"

Natasha nodded. "Sure." She said it no differently than if Mayfair had asked her to inspect the knights' lances for damage. An obedient soldier, readily following another command from her general.

Mayfair sighed as she turned away. Well, at least she had provided Deanna with some friendship. The more comfortable he became here, the sooner he would open up to her and his fellow troops.

She walked on to Eric's post. "Eric, what a surprise! You're not fooling around today!"

"What do you mean?" he said as he came to attention, genuinely offended. "I always pay full attention when I'm on duty."

Mayfair offered him an encouraging smile, though it seemed doubtful that he was that much better behaved on guard duty than the rest of the time. "Just remember. Be alert and no fooling around!"

With a meaningful look at Eric, she returned to the front doors. After checking over the troops one last time, she went back inside.

----------------------

Natasha was enjoying guard duty. With the increase in their ranks, more of the soldiers could take breaks at a time, leaving her companions more fresh and ready than they'd been in the past. The boys under her command had been slowly shaping up over the past few days; they were still disrespectful, but more and more they were following orders. Most importantly, in combat training they'd all vastly improved, both in individual skills and teamwork. She no longer felt worried that an attack from Iom could overwhelm them.

Castle Cypress was becoming a fortress for His Majesty to be proud of. When he returned home, she knew he would be stunned at how much more solid the castle's defenses were. And when Mayfair told him who'd spearheaded this change...

She was just beginning to daydream of Prince Nick surprising her with a roomful of flowers as a prelude to asking her hand in marriage, when voices from a few hundred meters off encroached on her thoughts.

"Hey, Deanna, come join us."

It sounded like Jaha, a dwarf in her squad. But his post was on the other side of Castle Cypress... Natasha quickly looked across the moat to Deanna.

"What?" Deanna said, startled. He began backing away, a mildly frightened expression on his face.

Dawn came to stand near Deanna. "Don't tempt him. You're not a good influence." She gave a proud toss of her head and said with contempt, "Unlike you, Deanna is taking his guard duty seriously."

Suspicions popped open in Natasha's mind. She ran in the direction of the first voice, hoping to the gods that she was wrong.

But sure enough, as she rounded the pillars beside the doors of Castle Cypress there were Jaha and Luke, standing with Eric. "Leave us alone, Dawn," Luke was saying. "We're only having some fun."

"I knew it!" Natasha howled, making the lot of them jump. "You've left your posts! Despicable!"

Jaha quickly hid behind Luke's fat legs. The monk remained nonchalant as he said, "Relax. Nothing is going to happen anyway."

"Are you joking - or are you really that stupid!? Deanna was nearly killed less than a mile from here! Or maybe you think that Castle Cypress won't be a very tempting target for Iom!? General Mayfair told us that beloved Cypress depends on us being ready at that hour, in that place where Cypress is threatened." She could barely hold in the tears of her rage and frustration, but she knew that if she started crying, any control she had over them would be lost. "This is the hour... this is the place. And yet you're away from your post! How could you let us down like this!? Me... Prince Nick... Cypress!!! How?"

Luke hopelessly rubbed a hand over his bald plate, his eyes focused on his toes. "Uh... Well, um..." Behind him, Jaha had pulled the pot he wore on his head over his face.

"Get back to your posts! NOW!!!"

They seemed ready to obey, so she turned on their centaur companion. "As for you, Eric, if you want to show that you really have the blood of royalty, then you sh -"

Her bit of advice was cut off by a sound not unlike the earth cracking open. Natasha actually stumbled from the impact of it. The sight of the sound's source nearly made her stagger.

The outer walls of Castle Cypress were broken in two places, at the East and West ramparts. Behind the gaping holes were squads of goblin troops carrying battering rams. Their uniforms bore the insignia of Iom. "The enemy! Everyone to their positions!" she ordered, moving quickly to take her own.

In a few moments, all of the guards within hearing range were at the ready. Aside from Natasha herself, there were five: Dawn, Eric, Jaha, Luke, and Deanna. She quickly asked her friend, "Dawn, how many do you see?"

"Eight, at least."

"We're outnumbered," she observed. "So let's not take any risks. Back to the bridge!"

The others quickly followed her lead. "Natasha, you're not having us retreat, are you?" Dawn asked in a concerned tone.

"Never! They'll reach this castle over my dead body. I just want to lure them into a narrow spot. Wait for it, everyone..." She took up a position just close enough to the bridge so that her magic could reach it.

Suddenly she frowned. "Wait. There's not enough room here for all of us to attack at once; we'll end up hitting each other. Jaha, Eric... you guys go across. We'll get them in a pincher attack."

The two rushed across, taking up posts on opposite sides of the bridge. "First strike!" Eric cried, thrusting his spear into a goblin that came too near. It backed away from him, clutching its deep wound.

Natasha silently cheered... until she noticed the enemy's movements. They were no longer heading for the bridge; they were moving to gang up on Jaha. "Everyone, back across!"

As it turned out, Jaha didn't need the help. Hearing Natasha's cry, he lifted his shield and took up a dwarven defensive stance, the usual position which relied upon the simple observation that a dwarf has the strength and size to wield a shield that can cover nearly all of his body. The goblin's blows rained uselessly against his blocks.

"Make way!" Luke pummeled one of the goblins attacking Jaha, while Natasha finished the one Eric had wounded with a blow from her staff; such creatures were not worth using magic on.

As Jaha finished another goblin, the two which had entered from the east stupidly rushed in to continue what their partners had been doing. Jaha swung his shield about to stop their strikes. He grinned at his companions behind him. "This is kind of fun."

Natasha was unamused. The enemy at the west end was still far off, but closing in. "Deanna," she ordered, "...get over here. You can break up that mini-swarm fastest. ...Deanna?"

He failed to appear, and there was no time to waste. One of the goblins had already taken on a nick from a spear thrust by Dawn; Natasha took aim and shouted, "Blaze!" The goblin burst into flames, and collapsed dead after a few seconds. Her study of combat magic had paid off. Luke and Jaha quickly moved to finish the other goblin.

Now she focused her full attention on the horde from the west. Three of them were in sight. "Eric, Jaha, head them off! Dawn, Deanna, and I will move in immediately after you. Luke, stay ready to heal anyone who gets seriously hurt."

The two ran to stop the enemy's advance towards Castle Cypress. The enemy hesitated at their approach, when suddenly a lizard creature burst from behind some bushes, gestured at Jaha, and screeched, "Blaze!" The dwarf fell to the ground with a scream. He'd taken a few nicks in his skirmish with the goblins, and the flames licked greedily at his torn flesh.

"JAHA! No!" Natasha cried. Gritting her teeth in determination, she said, "Dawn, let's finish this!"

There was no more time for strategy. Natasha unleashed her blaze magic on a man-rat in the group, while Dawn took down the remaining goblin. Seeing that Eric had taken a couple of wounds from the enemy, Luke rushed in to heal him. In a few seconds the high-born centaur was whole again, and rushing to take down the remaining foe: the lizard-man.

"Sssssypress filth!" the creature snarled contemptuously at him.

"You're a fool not to respect your betters, street scum! The blood of royalty flows in my veins!" With a proud lift of his head, he aimed his spear and made a flawless thrust directly into the beast's left eye.

The lizard-man howled in agony and grabbed the spear. With one mighty pull, he yanked Eric off-balance and onto the ground. Squinting through his remaining eye, he lifted a hand axe and moved to sever the centaur's head.

His plan was brought to immediate halt by a pair of harsh blows to the head. Natasha and Dawn stepped over his corpse, the former breathing heavily as she clutched her staff. "Magnificently done, Eric," she commended him. "But next time someone stronger than you gets hold of your weapon, just let it go." She and Luke helped him to his feet, ignoring the sour looks he gave them.

"Ahhh! Thief!"

They all quickly looked to the source of the scream; it was coming from Cypress castle. Mayfair suddenly came running out the front entrance. "Thief! The Sword of Hajya has been stolen. It must be one of Iom's agents!"

"A ruse!" Natasha swore, running toward Mayfair. "The thief - which way did he...?"

Turning her head to look around, Mayfair shouted, "Look! There!"

Running towards the ramparts at the rear of the castle was a lone centaur. He had nowhere to run; Natasha and the others had unintentionally cut off his escape route by covering the break in the western rampart. "We've got him!" Natasha cried, and they all set off in chase.

Taking a look behind him, the thief blanched and pulled forth the Sword of Cypress. Instead of tossing it away, however, he hefted it, assumed a fighting stance, and charged the wall which blocked him in. To Natasha's astonishment, it crumbled before the Sword of Hajya. The thief bounded through the hole, and her heart sank. She slowed to a morose walk, then turned to look behind her. Now that the battle was over, she remembered that she had a fallen comrade.

"Don't stop!" Mayfair ordered. "After him!"

"But... Jaha..."

"I'll take care of him! Go! If the Iom army gets that sword, they'll use it against Prince Nick!"

That did it. Natasha sprinted for the hole in the wall, not even wasting the instant it would take to ensure that the others were following.

----------------------

Nearly half of Castle Cypress was set against a steep precipice. Not a cliff, but a high enough slope to discourage any attack. It had proved its worth again this time, restricting the enemy penetration to areas near the front of the castle. Its only drawback was that it could not discourage a thief with the Sword of Hajya from escaping through that area.

Natasha, Dawn, Eric, Luke, and Deanna came through the hole in the rear rampart to find the thief had already made his way down the precipice and was nowhere in sight. This made them hesitate but a moment.

In that moment, Mayfair and Jaha bounded out through the hole to join them. Natasha gasped in astonishment; the deep-fried dwarf was looking good as new, excepting only the ashes littering his armor.

Jaha grinned at her incredulity. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again: There ain't nothing General Mayfair can't do."

"Look!" Mayfair cried, pointing. "There he is."

Indeed, now that she had pointed him out, the others could easily spot the thief on the opposite side of the stream that lay near the precipice. The thief had stopped to rest, but it took him only an instant to realize that he'd been seen. Mayfair shouted, "Hurry everyone! After that man!"

The drop was steep, but not treacherous. The seven of them hopped off the edge and slid down. Most managed this feat rather gracefully. Luke, however, landed flat on his face, while Deanna tumbled rather than slid down, ending in an upside-down heap.

"Wait a moment," a voice commanded, followed immediately by its owner stepping forth from the foliage. It was a dwarf, wearing the uniform of Iom. "If you're after Graham, I'm afraid you're out of luck. I'm afraid I can't let you go any further. My faithful followers. Attack!"

From behind trees and from out of dense patches of ferns they came, too many to count: goblins, lizardmen, and a pair of gigantic bats that the Iom troops could apparently control. Overwhelmed, Natasha gasped out, "Mayfair, what do we do?"

"That's up to you, Natasha. You're the leader."

"But I've already failed! Jaha -"

"You can't expect perfection on your first try. If I take over now, that one failure will rule you indefinitely."

"How can you just stand there," she cried angrily, "...while soldiers are coming to kill us?"

Mayfair met her eyes, and returned to her a look of assurance. "Because I know you can do this."

"Goblins on the starboard port, Natasha!" Luke announced.

She spun around to again face the enemy, her brain quickly taking hold of the situation. "Dawn, Eric, you can outreach and outmaneuver them; buzz them like flies! The rest of you wait for my signal, then charge!" Though her voice communicated confidence, inside she felt nearly overcome by anxiety. There were half a dozen of the goblins coming at them in formation; could they handle that many?

The centaurs swept in, riding circles around the enemy, occasionally darting their spears in for a strike. Natasha was pleased to see that they were exercising caution. "Charge!" she commanded.

Jaha and Luke moved in, with Deanna behind them. Deanna never got his chance; the lead duo mowed down everything in their way with axe and staff and fist. All that was left for him to attack was a pile of goblin corpses. Natasha was too focused on the battle to take note of it, but the back of her mind realized how strange it was that a man like Deanna had been outrun by a dwarf and a monk with sausage legs.

The enemy was quickly cleared from their side of the stream. "Eric, Jaha, take up positions on the bridge; Dawn and I will give you covering fire. We've reduced their numbers, but if they rush us now we'll be overwhelmed. Deanna, take Luke and make sure they don't come across the other bridge."

"On it," Jaha answered with a mock salute, then hopped off after Eric.

The giant bats were apparently not as firmly under the control of the Iomites as Natasha had guessed, for she could hear them cursing as the flying beasts abruptly swooped towards Eric and Jaha. She nodded with tentative satisfaction; the Iom troops couldn't risk assaulting the bridge with the two bats flapping wildly about, but how big of a problem the bats themselves were was yet to be seen. She stepped forward to use her flame spells, and Dawn followed suit by thrusting her spear at the bats.

Natasha winced as Jaha took a serious blow, one of the bats descending to tear at his back with its fangs. Eric speared it as it came within range. Dawn, seeing the other bat pass over the water, threw her spear at one of its wings. It tore a large rip in the flap, and the bat fell with a splash into the stream.

"We're taking them down but good," Eric said. "C'mon, let's get the rest!" Before Natasha could protest, Eric galloped across the bridge with Dawn and Jaha right behind him.

"Oh, well," she sighed. "Deanna, Luke, let's give them a h-"

The words froze in her mouth as she that one the enemy had indeed tried the other bridge; a pair of lizardmen were bearing down on Deanna and Luke.

Luke steadied himself, gripped his staff firmly, and waited. As soon one of the lizardmen came close enough, he spun his staff in an upward ark that lifted him off his feet and threw him into the stream. He failed to notice the other one slipping behind him for a strike, but fortunately Deanna was within easy reach.

What happened next made Natasha's blood run cold. Instead of cutting down the lizardman, Deanna stumbled _backwards_, out of its reach. The reptilian humanoid raised his axe and mercilessly slammed it into the back of Luke's head. The young monk fell to the earth, his skull an erupting volcano of blood.

Natasha screamed in horror. The lizardman ignored her, turning towards Deanna. Enraged beyond conscious thought, she gestured at the beast and cried out "Freeze!"

Ice particles formed over the lizardman, encrusting themselves in the spaces between his scales. Like any good lizard, the Iomite had no defense against the cold. His movements slowed; the axe slipped from his nerveless fingers. His mouth opened in a gasp, and he crumpled in a heap on the ground, his body twitching in final quivers.

Though Natasha had been studying the Freeze spell for some time, this was the first time she had successfully cast it. She wasted no more time with her surprise at this new feat of hers than she did with coaxing Deanna into action, but immediately raced across the stream to aid the others.

"Dawn," she called, "...get that goblin that's going for Eric's back! Stay away from the lizardman, Jaha; you can reach the vital spots of the goblins more easily!"

Natasha slammed into the fray, knocking a pair of goblins to the side. She smashed the skull of another with her staff. The enemy troops were disorganized, she realized; their numbers already significantly reduced and scattered by Dawn, Eric, and Jaha. As soon as she got close enough, she cast another freeze spell against the lizardman to send him curling into a frigid ball, making a mental note to herself on how useful the spell was against that ordinarily resilient race.

The enemy was going down fairly quickly, and after a few moments Natasha noticed that she didn't see their leader, the dwarf, anywhere.

On sudden intuition, she stooped down and looked to Eric and Dawn's legs. Sure enough, the Iom dwarf was pushing his way between his struggling subordinates to get within striking range of Dawn's legs. Being shorter than the rest of the fighters, Dawn had no way of seeing him from her height. He could permanently cripple her before she even knew he was there.

"Jaha!" Natasha called. "To your left - the dwarf!"

----------------------

It took Jaha but an instant to spot him. He immediately scrambled forward, hefting his axe at his fellow halfling. For his trouble, he took the blow meant for Dawn in his chest plate.

"Yowch!" Jaha yelped, hopping back a step. "Ain't like you can crack my armor, shrimp, but that didn't exactly tickle!"

"Shrimp!?" the other dwarf bellowed. "I may be short, but I can still crack your skull!"

To Jaha's great pleasure, the Iomite tried to do just that. Jaha raised his axe to deflect the blow and then, before his foe could recover, slammed it into an unprotected part of his torso. "Not if you announce your plan in advance, you can't," he muttered.

The dwarf coughed, blood spurting from his deep wound. "Kill you... kill..."

A hoof came down from above, crushing the wounded dwarf's head into the dirt. From the sky, Jaha heard a voice saying, "Any more bugs down there that need to be stepped on?"

Jaha scowled. "If all yer jokes are that funny, Dawn, do yourself a favor and stick to being the straight man. That kill was supposed to be mine!"

"What're you so upset about, Jaha? We won!"

Natasha glared at Dawn with quiet anger. "Jaha's right, Dawn. That joke was just sick. And you still haven't thanked him for saving you."

Dawn stared back at her in shock. "I -"

"Well done, everybody!" Mayfair interrupted, looking over each of them, except for Deanna, who was standing quietly behind her. "But, we've lost the thief."

Natasha shook her head sadly. "Right now I don't care about that. Luke..." She looked. He was still lying where he'd fallen. She felt her throat begin to close up. "Is... Is he...?"

"He'll survive. I was able to heal the critical damage and close up the wound a bit. But he'll need some rest."

She let out a huge breath of relief. "Thank the gods."

Without saying another word, she stepped forward, going around Mayfair. Furrowing her brow in puzzlement, Mayfair turned around just in time to see Natasha slam her staff against Deanna's collarbone. He cried out and fell to the ground.

"And no thanks to you!" Natasha screamed at Deanna's prone form. She raised her staff to hit him again. "You monster! You -"

Arms seized her from behind, hands clasping tight around her forearms to keep her from using her staff. She struggled to break free, though she knew in an instant that it was Mayfair who was holding her. As though from a great distance, she heard Deanna mutter in a small voice, "I'm sorry I failed you..."

"Natasha!" Dawn gasped, stepping forward. "What's gotten into you?"

"I saw him!" she shouted. "He had a chance to stop that Iom soldier that attacked Luke, and he backed away instead! He stood there and let him cut Luke down! I saw him, Dawn!"

"Natasha... Calm down; you're all excited from Luke getting hurt. I'm sure you misinterpreted what you saw. Mayfair, you must have seen it; tell her."

Natasha couldn't see her face, but Mayfair's voice was emotionless as she answered, "She saw correctly, Dawn." Her voice turned gentle as she pleaded to her, "Natasha, please. You're losing control of yourself, and I won't let you do something you'll regret later. Remember what we're doing. We must retrieve the Sword of Hajya, no matter what."

Slowly, her immobility and Mayfair's words brought Natasha back to herself. She relaxed in Mayfair's motherly grasp. Slowing her breathing, she whispered out, "I'm sorry, Mayfair."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, child." She released Natasha and stepped back from her. "But I shouldn't be calling you that anymore, should I? You're a warrior now."

Natasha shook her head. "I always want to be your child. ...But what do we do now? How can we get the Sword back?"

Mayfair considered a moment. "The Thames village is just ahead. We can gather information there."

She nodded. "Allright." However, she hesitated a moment. "Would you mind helping me get Luke onto Dawn's back? It'll take two humans to lift him up, and we're the only two here with the strength," she said, casting the briefest of glances at Deanna, who was still lying in the dirt.

Mayfair smiled. "Do you think such a task undignified for a general? Luckily, I don't."

----------------------

In short order, the group was on their way, Dawn bearing Luke on her back, with Natasha holding him steady with one hand. Eric walked on her left, while Jaha ambled along behind her. Mayfair smiled affectionately upon them.

"...Thanks for the save, Jaha. I'm sorry about that stupid joke, too; that wasn't like me at all. I was just so excited... to fight for Cypress..."

"Relax. I know what you mean. But I sure did want that Iom soldier."

"I'll let you have the next one."

"You guys are pretty darn bloodthirsty," Natasha put in.

"We kill them to save Cypress, Natasha. Is it so bad that I enjoy doing it?"

Mayfair wanted to listen to the rest, but she needed to speak to Deanna first. She was discouraged to see that he was still lying just as Natasha had laid him out, but she nonetheless managed to inject her words with some hopefulness.

"We're going to Thames now, Deanna. I know that we could use your strength there. If you can find that strength within yourself, the strength to fight for Cypress, then follow us there.

"If you can't, then I understand. I wouldn't want you to come with us if you don't feel you can help. If that is your choice, I would appreciate it if you told everyone back at Castle Cypress of what has happened." With that, she turned to follow after her protégés.

As always, Deanna had nothing to say.


	8. Chapter 8: Trial by Duty

Author's notes: Welcome to the first bi-weekly installment of "Deanna and Natasha"! If you haven't read it elsewhere, I've decided to commit to putting up two new chapters of this novella every two weeks, in hopes that it will keep both reader and writer engaged. The first seven chapters were uploaded exactly two weeks ago, so with this update I've crossed the first hurdle. If I continue to meet my goal, I dare say I'll have an established reputation as a committed updater. Something worth fighting for, no?

- Chapter 8: Trial by Duty -

Deanna didn't know how much longer it was before he at last got to his feet. The sun was still high in the sky, but it still could have been hours. He carelessly dusted himself off and looked around.

Things had worked out better than he could have hoped for, though he was hardly happy with the way they had done so. All he had to do now was return to Iom and make his report. His captain would be displeased with his failure, but Hindel would make sure that no harm came to him.

However, even that thought brought a pang of guilt to him. If it weren't for the fact that his brother was a general, without a doubt his captain would give him the appropriate reward for so complete a failure: death. Any captain of Iom would.

But Mayfair and Natasha... He had failed, completely and without a single excuse, right before their eyes; yet they had spared him. Even in dealing punishment, Natasha was the gentlest of souls, striking him with her staff rather than using her magic to burn him to death as he deserved.

And in that moment before she struck him, he had seen her eyes, and somehow had a fleeting glimpse into her heart. She had not even been angry because of his failure; she had been angry because of what he had let happen to Luke. Even her rage was driven by compassion.

He realized, now, that he felt the same way as she and Mayfair did. Though thanks to Hindel he would never be punished for his failings, he had seen other Iomites die for them. It wasn't fair. At the least, those poor soldiers had tried for the sake of Iom, even if their trying had ended in defeat. Some of them, Deanna felt sure, truly loved Iom more than the brutal officers who executed them for their shortcomings.

A sudden sob came to Deanna's throat. "Everything about Warderer's law..." he spoke to the wind, "...is wrong."

The realization brought him to his knees, filled his eyes with tears. Why did the land of his birth act as a breeding ground for pettiness and evil, and the land of his enemies as a harbor for the innocent and the just?

"Why can't King Warderer leave these people alone!? This is all his idea!" His Majesty had told everyone that the recent invasions were mainly to expand Iom's domain to its rightful proportions. "But I'll bet anything that all he's interested in are those royal sacrifices! He's just trying to win favor with Iom for himself, and letting the rest of us suffer for it: Iom, Emild, Cypress!"

The pieces fell into place with frightening rapidness, and the conclusion was unavoidable. He couldn't go along with this. If he did, the Cypressians would be killed: Jaha, Luke, Eric, Dawn, Mayfair... Natasha. His pitiful efforts wouldn't save them, but maybe he could help... and even, if they got close enough to Iom, he could contact Hindel. Hindel would know what to do.

This all meant... treason. But was it worth it to be loyal? To help murder the noble people of Cypress, to serve Warderer in his madness?

Yes, he had a duty to Iom, to his country. But now he had a duty to Cypress, as well. To turn on the people who had saved his life, and now spared it again, would be a horrible treachery as well. There was only one way to free himself of this dilemma.

Deanna combed the ground until he found a sizable rock. He lifted it up and carefully picked out a wide, flat-bodied arthropod from among the creatures scurrying around its bottom. He lay the critter on the ground with one hand, and drew his dagger out with the other.

"To Iom our masterful ruler, your servant, Deanna, offers you the blood of this humble beast. Accept my offering! Accept our sacrifice." He brought the dagger down, cutting the arthropod in two.

After waiting for a significant amount of blood to seep into the soil, Deanna returned his dagger to its sheath and clasped his hands in prayer. "Iom, I pray that you will look with mercy on me. I'm going to join the Cypress army in attacking the people you have chosen. I love my people, and the land you have given us. But... to be honest... I am also attached to the people King Warderer means to kill in your name."

He paused. "I don't mean to defy you, or my country. Only to save Cypress. I beg you... keep safe the six Cypressians that I am going to travel with. If you will only keep Cypress from destruction, I promise to serve you faithfully for the rest of my life."

A minute passed in silence. Then Deanna returned to his feet and went on his way. What he'd done for Cypress, and what he could do for Cypress, meant little. But he'd done everything possible to accomplish his duty, and hopefully Hindel and Iom would do the rest. And if he died in service to this duty, that was no more than he deserved. At long last, he had determined to stop running.

----------------------

He caught up with the group just outside of Thames village. To his surprise, Jaha and Eric smiled and waved at him in greeting. Even Dawn, when she glanced at him, showed no enmity against his failure. Only Natasha took pains not to look at him. Yet still, Deanna found it very difficult to look away from her.

"So, this is Thames Village," Mayfair announced, as though they were all on a field trip. "Let's question the villagers. We may find a clue to the thief's whereabouts." Turning around, she looked directly at Deanna and gave a beckoning gesture. "Deanna, come with me. The rest of you, wait here. It's best that we don't attract notice."

Deanna followed Mayfair without a word. Though he'd recited it many times to himself, he still could not find the voice to thank her for the second chance she had given him. He only hoped that he could prove worthy of it.

Surprisingly, he felt little discomfort in again walking among the houses of Thames Village. After all, it was during his assignment to take over this thriving town that he had taken his brutal fall from the nearby cliffs. The only thing that made him nervous was the absence of traffic; Thames was a crowded village, and by rights there should have been a number of people out and about at this hour. Mayfair didn't seem unsettled by the quiet, however.

"I want to talk to you about what happened back there, Deanna," Mayfair said suddenly. "I'm not a fool, you know."

For a moment panic swept over Deanna. Had she guessed that he was from Iom? He had to remind himself that she wouldn't have let him go after the battle if she'd even suspected that.

"I know that no man chooses to be a coward," she went on. "Some inner demon of yours has a hold on you, making you afraid. And it's not hard to guess that it probably has to do with what you went through when you fell from that cliff."

Deanna bit at his lip. Should he tell her the truth about his weakness? But then he'd have to explain how he got to be a sergeant, or else make up a story about why he'd _claimed_ to be a sergeant. And all that assumed that she would even believe the truth.

"Natasha will realize all that too, in time. Even if she doesn't, I think she still wouldn't stay angry at you. But listen here, Deanna: Natasha isn't an easy woman to anger. I've never seen her like that before today. In her mind, there's probably few crimes greater than what you did. If I were you, I'd have a good long talk with her. At the very least, I hope that you are ready to overcome your inner demon next time." She turned to look at him. "Are you?"

He nodded. It would mean his death if it came to that, but better death than to disappoint them like that again. It would be a warrior's death, at least; something for Hindel to be proud of.

"This probably doesn't need saying, but from now on you will follow Natasha's orders. The rest of the group are still your subordinates, of course, but for the rest of this mission, act as though Natasha is your commanding officer. Do you understand?"

Deanna nodded again.

Mayfair cocked her head at him. "Will you ever speak to me again?"

A shrug was his only reply.

----------------------

Deciding to follow Mayfair's advice, Deanna stood outside the abandoned house where they were placing Luke and waited for Natasha to reappear. He wasn't sure that he wanted Natasha to forgive him, but he did want the chance to apologize.

When she came out she saw him immediately, and the sight made her start. She seemed somewhat embarrassed for some reason.

"Are you allright?" he whispered. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's... I just didn't think you'd want to speak to me after I... after I hit you. I'm sorry I did that."

He shook his head. "I deserved it. Really, I want to apologize to you for... my failure."

"You don't owe any apology to me." She pointed sharply to the inside of the building. "Apologize to Luke."

Surprised by this suggestion, he took a step back and began fidgeting helplessly. "I... I can't talk to him. Not just because of what I did."

"Why _did_ you do it, Deanna?" she demanded. Her eyes focused on him like spear heads.

After considering a moment, he said, "Did I tell you about my father?"

"No. Was he killed by the Iom worshippers?"

Deanna shook his head. "A barroom fight that got out of hand. My father was always good at hitting," he said, slipping into reminiscence. "It's how he taught me."

She squinted at him. "What do you mean?"

"When I was very young, he started hitting me a lot. At the time, I didn't understand why. I was just a stupid kid still; all I could think was that I hadn't done anything bad, that I was a good boy. It wasn't until a while after he died that I finally understood. My father was showing me that this is the way things go for people like me. If you can't measure up, the other people will beat you down.

"For a bit, I sort of felt good about my father taking the time with me. That feeling didn't last, though. A lot of the time the hitting just seemed like too much, and I got sick of it. I'd learned my lesson; why did he need to keep on hurting me? After a while, I stopped caring about him needing to 'teach me'; I just wanted to stop getting hit."

As he was speaking, Natasha gradually began to tremble. When he came to this point, she finally blurted out in a choked voice, "You're making this up - to make me feel sorry for you!"

Deanna blinked. "Feel sorry for me? Why should you feel sorry for me? My father doesn't hit me anymore. I told you; he died over ten years ago. I barely even remember him." He lowered his head. "It's just that... sometimes I'm reminded of him... like when I saw the lizardman that was attacking Luke. He reminded me of my father. And... this is really stupid... I thought, 'I don't want to get hit anymore.' So I ignored the lesson my father taught me, and I backed off."

He looked back up to see Natasha staring at him with a tragic new understanding. The tears running from her eyes made them sparkle in the fading daylight with a holy radiance. "You poor lad... your father didn't teach you anything."


	9. Chapter 9: Trial by Blood

- Chapter 9: Trial by Blood -

Their new guide, the priest Slade, pointed ahead. "At the base of those mountains lies Albert Cliffs. Let's hurry. If we don't act fast, they will kill all the villagers."

Natasha nodded. "I think we'll move faster if we split up. Jaha, Luke, Eric... take that path over there. If you run into trouble, Jaha can act as front guard while Eric can strike from farther back. Luke, back them up and heal anyone who gets hurt. The rest of you come with me. You too, Slade; we could use a healer in this group."

She still didn't feel sure that she was making the right decisions. Deferring to Mayfair wasn't an option anymore, though; not since their talk that morning. She'd approached the general in her room as they were preparing to head out.

"What is it, Natasha?"

"I just wanted to check... that you'll be leading us in our next battles."

With a shake of her head, Mayfair had answered, "I can't do that, child. You are the leader of this force."

"That's only true because you say it is! You could lead us much better than I could."

"You're doing fine, Natasha. You were all but perfect in that last battle. Only Luke suffered serious injury, and that wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known Deanna would react the way he did."

"Maybe I did do well," she admitted. "But I was lucky, too. If you were leading us, we wouldn't have to depend on luck. This isn't what I was born to do, Mayfair!"

"Cypress cannot survive if she relies only on those born to fight for her, Natasha." Mayfair stopped packing, slowly sat back on her bed, and patted the spot beside her. "Come. Sit with me."

She obeyed, with some reluctance. Mayfair continued, "This may sound strange to you, but His Majesty didn't make me general because of my ability to lead troops into combat. He chose me for my ability to inspire, to discipline, and to train. I've never thought of myself as anything special in any of those things, but those are the words he used when he appointed me. He said he was hopeful that I would never have to personally lead men in combat... I think because he realized that I wouldn't do well in the heat of the battlefield."

Natasha stared at her commander. Taking notice of this, Mayfair turned and looked her in the eyes. "There's a difference between a leader who dictates and a leader who fights. On the battlefield you're already nearly my equal. It won't be long before you're far better there than I could ever hope to be. My leading the force may make winning the _next_ battle easier, but it will keep you from growing into your new role. And that will cost us the war."

A gloomy silence passed. She stared at her lap. "I don't know if I can handle this, Mayfair."

"You're not alone, Natasha. I'll help you plan and improve your strategies before and after you go into battle. And don't forget your troops. You can rely on them just as much as they rely on you."

General Mayfair was probably right; she always had been before, after all. But Natasha still wasn't comfortable making these life-or-death decisions.

There was no time for uncertainty; the team moved out. Dawn came at the head, flanked by her and Slade, with Deanna bringing up the rear. Conventional strategy dictated that swordsmen go towards the front, but Natasha wasn't yet confident that Deanna was ready to pull his weight, despite the assurances he'd given her yesterday.

----------------------

Despite those assurances, despite the promises he'd made to himself, Deanna's knees began to shake the moment he spotted the enemy. Humans, lizardmen, and dwarves all scurried towards them, leading on two giant bats. Natasha's orders had implied the likelihood of an ambush, but he felt unprepared nonetheless. He didn't want to die. Not because he had any love for life, he realized, but because in his cowardice he feared death.

He fastened one hand on the scabbard of his sword, the other on its hilt. "You're a disgrace," he said to himself, too quietly for any ears to hear. "A craven coward, a miserable periwinkle clinging to a wretched rock just for fear of the jolt of falling into the sea!" _Let it go, damn you. Rise above the fear. Today is a good day to die, after all. I only wish I could see Hindel again... but at least he won't have to be ashamed of me anymore. I won't have to be ashamed of myself, either._

A human soldier came close, and Dawn stabbed him with her spear. Before he could react, Slade finished him with a blow to the staff. Deanna took the opportunity to move forward, ahead of Slade. If he wasn't near the front lines, the temptation to shirk away from any actual fighting would be too strong.

The giant bats swooped forward, and found Deanna a welcome target. He spun his shield around to fend them off, holding his sword ready for an opportunity to strike one of them, but they were too swift in their movements. He cried out in shock as talons raked against his chain mail and tore deep into his flesh.

"Blaze!" One of the bats burst into flame and fell away from him, while Dawn drove back the other. Slade rushed to his side and healed the damage the bats had done.

"Thank you," he said to Slade, astonished. For the first time, he had become part of a team; when he acted, the others helped him. The effectiveness of this system was enough to give him new confidence. Perhaps he wouldn't die today, after all.

Then the first bat, still flaming, dove back at him. "Look out!" he gasped.

Slade whirled around and stopped the bat's attack with a blow from his staff. It fell to the ground and squirmed in its death throes. The priest was surprisingly strong.

Deanna rolled to his feet and saw that the bat's masters were now coming at them as a group. He swallowed.

"Dawn, hold them off with anything - spear, lance, hooves! Deanna, help her out! I'll look for the best place to use my magic on them."

As she galloped forward, Dawn freed her lance from its straps at her side, and impressively hefted it with her right arm while her left held her spear at the ready. As she came within range, she managed to thrust her spear through the head of an Iom soldier before the rest of the group swarmed over her.

"Dawn, I'm coming!" She moved too fast; his human legs couldn't keep pace. Also, the idea of fighting alongside a centaur added even more to his trepidation. He wasn't sure which he should fear more: the enemy's blades, or a stray kick from Dawn.

Even wielding multiple weapons, Dawn couldn't keep them all at bay for long. A lizardman slipped to the right of her lance and moved to attack. Deanna went for him, wielding his sword in a practiced thrust designed to kill instantly.

The blade slid uselessly against the lizardman's scales, leaving only a slim cut, surface damage. The lizardman turned to him and broke into a laugh. "Fool can't even use a ssssimple ssssord!"

The lizardman whacked him in the stomach with his shield, knocking Deanna onto his bottom. As he struggled to recapture the breath in his lungs, a human soldier raised his sword to finish him.

Deanna yelped and rolled out of the way, dropping his sword in the process. He quickly recovered it while his countryman was pulling his own weapon free from the ground, then came at him with a series of strokes and overhead cuts that, done properly, should overcome anyone but a master swordsman. His opponent fended all but one off, and that one only scored a nick in his shoulder. He returned Deanna's attack with a swing that tore open his side; only an awkward parry with his sword prevented it from being a mortal wound.

A blow struck the Iom soldier in the lower back, causing him to fall forward. Slade stepped forward and pulled his staff against the Iomite's neck, cutting off his breath until he passed out. The priest then stepped forward to heal Deanna.

"Get it together, Deanna!" he heard Natasha yelling. "There are only four of us; we can't afford to have anyone doing less than his best!"

His head went down in shame. How could he tell her... that this _was_ his best? What was he doing here, what had he been thinking? He couldn't help them one bit. He was probably _hurting_ them by making Slade have to watch over him.

A familiar voice called out, "Hang on, gang! Heeeere's the cavalry!" It was Luke, scrambling to keep up with Eric. Jaha was holding on to the centaur's hindquarters, axe at the ready. All three were splattered with blood, the enemy's and their own, and eager to fight on. Deanna was surprised that Eric would subjugate himself to usage as a beast of burden, but mainly he felt relief that they had handled themselves so well. His own group wouldn't have lasted much longer, not with his bumbling.

Jaha leapt from Eric and whirled his axe through the air, slicing through the enemy as he came down. Eric threw his spear into a soldier's back, then drew out his lance to dispense further punishment. Heartened by their arrival, Natasha and Dawn plowed into the Iom troops.

Deanna's hand once more gripped his sword, but he hesitated. The battle was now pandemonium. If he were hurt, he could easily be overlooked by the rest of the team until it was too late. And for what? He was of no use to them. It would be best, since the Cypressians had the upper hand anyway, to simply wait the battle out. He could resign from the force afterwards.

He cast a regretful gaze upon Natasha, fighting fiercely against a swordsman with only her staff. He was sorry that he had failed her, just as he had failed Hindel.

An unimportant figure in the fray, a lizardman, passed beside Natasha. Deanna furrowed his brow, somehow feeling that something was about to go wrong without knowing why. He realized, just before the lizardman swung his blade, that Natasha could not defend against more than one opponent at once.

The lizardman's blade came against her midsection, ripping through robes, slicing open her innocent flesh, tearing a tide of blood from her pure veins. The briefest of cries passed Natasha's lips as she fell.

That cry struck Deanna like a stake rending its way upward. The sight of this horror numbed his mind, savaged his heart. In that moment he saw flashing before his eyes every single fight that he had ever lost.

----------------------

Deanna thrust the blade forward, just as he had been taught, and punctured the "heart" of the little straw target.

"Good," Hindel said. "If that were an enemy soldier you were attacking, by now you'd have single-handedly wiped out the Emild army." He stepped forward and picked up the other wooden sword. "All you need now... is to do the same thing to me. Are you ready?"

Was he ever ready? But Deanna nodded; he knew that he'd done all he could with dummy targets. He walked to his position on the grassy field and hefted his wooden sword into a ready stance, mirroring his brother.

"I mean it. No holding back, Deanna. I want you to beat me this time." Deanna nodded again. After a moment, Hindel said, "Now!"

His brother moved in for the attack. Deanna was no match for him as a fighter, of course; even with a wooden sword, Hindel could break half the bones in his body in under half a minute if he wanted to. But since Hindel wasn't testing his own superiority, he fought in a predictable manner, and used only moves that Deanna was familiar with.

Deanna blocked the attacks with scarcely a thought, drawing on his knowledge of defensive moves mostly by instinct. He had Hindel's dumbed down routine practically memorized by now. The key was to wait for a clear opening in Hindel's defenses. That was his chance to prove himself.

After Deanna blocked a sideward strike at his head, Hindel suddenly made a direct thrust at his unprotected midsection. Too direct; Deanna swung his sword down and pushed Hindel's thrust off-mark, striking at him in the same motion.

With a quick twist of the wrist, Hindel chopped at Deanna's wrist, making him drop his sword. A swift follow-up stroke smacked him on the back of his head.

"Uck!" Deanna fell forward onto the ground. With a moan, he rubbed the slowly forming lump on the back of his head.

"Again!" Hindel raged at him. "You choked on the killing move again! Damn it, Deanna, are you trying to piss me off? You've done that move a dozen times with the straw targets. Why can't you use it on a living target?"

"It's hard," Deanna protested. "The straw targets are easy to hit; they don't move or counter-attack."

"You're supposed to practice with them as though they do! I've been working on this with you for more than 3 months, Deanna. Why aren't you getting it, dammit!?"

"I'll keep trying…"

"That's not good enough!"

Hindel seized him by the scruff of his collar and lifted him off the ground, bringing the two of them face-to-face. Deanna could feel his feet dangling in midair, Hindel's warm breath beating on his face against the chill weather.

"There's a war going on, Deanna, and Warderer isn't going to excuse any man of age from military service. Nothing I do can change that. It may be two weeks from now, or it may be six months, but you _are_ going into battle. And if you can't defend yourself better than this, you'll die. Do you hear me? You'll die, Deanna."

Deanna stared back into his brother's fierce eyes, as though hypnotized by a lethal snake. The emotion in those eyes was one he had never seen in Hindel before, and it took him a moment to identify it.

It was fear.

Disturbed by this alien sight, he looked away. "I'm sorry…"

"I don't want you to apologize! I want you to beat me!" He threw Deanna back into the ground. "Get up! Get up and face me! That lump on your head isn't going to slow you down, is it!?"

He shook his head. "It's fine."

Hindel reached for his wooden sword, but suddenly stopped short. "You're sure? Does it hurt?"

"Just a tiny bit. But… we've been practicing for a couple hours now. Can we take a break? Go see the amber fields, maybe? We haven't gone there yet this year..."

He seemed to waver for a moment, but when he came to his answer, it was resolute. "No! I'm not letting you quit, Deanna! I'll spend all day here if I have to, but this practice doesn't end until you get it right! You're going to keep fighting me until you win!"

They took their positions in silence. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Deanna said, "Hindel?"

"What?"

"I love you."

For a moment, Hindel began to tremble. But he quickly regained control of himself and snapped back, "Love is not what I'm teaching you here, Deanna! That's what your problem is. You're thinking of love when what you need is hate!"

Suddenly an idea seemed to occur to Hindel; his face calmed and turned thoughtful. He lowered the point of his sword to rest on the ground. "I think I may know what you're missing. You need to have a focused goal in a fight. You can't just swing that sword around as though that were an end in itself. You have to want your opponent to die. Do you understand? You have to want me to die."

After a moment, Deanna nodded slowly. "I think I understand."

Hindel smiled thinly. "Good. Now show me. Kill me."

But though he tried again, and again, and again, it was always Hindel who "killed" him. He told himself that he wanted his enemy to die, but even in play, he couldn't believe it. He'd never in his life wanted anyone to die, not even for an instant. This was not because he was compassionate, but because he lacked the pride to imagine someone dying because of him.

The lessons continued, but Deanna never improved. And a boy who didn't know how to fight was easy prey in Iom. Again and again, the other boys beat him up. For Hindel's sake, he never gave up fighting back, but it never did any good.

But that was alright; his father had taught him to accept this way of things. He could accept that he would be repeatedly beaten. He could accept that he would be hurt. If it came to a battle, it wouldn't break his heart even if he and all of his men died. He could accept that.

----------------------

But he could not accept that Natasha would be hurt. Not her. Not that gentle woman. Not after all she'd done.

Deanna drew his sword and strode towards the fallen mage. Thought had left his mind. Shame had left his mind. Fear had left his mind. Only one sensation remained.

He wanted the one who'd harmed Natasha to die.

The lizardman looked up from his fallen foe, stopped short of finishing her off when he noticed Deanna. His fighting stance was crude, undisciplined, amateurish. Deanna could probably take him down with a single stroke, but he wanted no doubt. He feinted to the right, and the lizardman blocked.

Deanna whirled the blade around, and with a single stroke cut a rip across the lizardman's body, nearly splitting him in two. The loathsome monster fell dead beside Natasha.

Deanna kicked his vile body away from Natasha's sacred form, and looked around to make sure that no one else intended to harm her. The soldier she'd been fighting with, now joined by two dwarves, were approaching him as though they had just that thought in mind. Deanna carefully stepped away from Natasha, towards them, so that there would be no risk of him stepping on her.

His sword clashed once with that of the human soldier, and then he sliced open the man's cheek. Enraged, he lunged at Deanna, forgetting his defenses. Deanna promptly gutted him.

The two dwarves appeared quite powerful, but they were clumsy. Deanna had easily kept their companion between himself and them, and now it was a simple matter to side-step the strokes of their axes. When one of them took a horizontal swing at him, Deanna leapt over his head and drove his sword through his back.

The remaining dwarf rushed at him. Deanna deflected his first swing, and before another could come he was slashing at him from every side, drawing cuts wherever vulnerable flesh appeared. Overwhelmed by the assault, and growing weak from loss of blood, the dwarf retreated.

"Mayfair..."

Natasha's voice. Deanna dropped his sword on the ground and fell onto one knee beside her. She was breathing evenly, but streams of blood flowed freely from every part of her torso, soaking her robes all the way down her legs. "Natasha! Are you... okay?"

"Mayfair..." she gasped out between coughs. "Where's..."

"I'm right here," the general said in a voice short of breath. She ran forward and bent down beside Natasha. "Ohhhh, this looks bad. Hold on, Natasha, I can heal it, but you'll need to hold still when I tell you to hold still. Deanna, would you please give us some space? This is a messy wound, so I'm going to have to tear away all the clothing around it."

With a slight blush, Deanna nodded and walked away.

After a few steps, his foot landed on something unpleasant. He looked down; it was the soldier Natasha had been fighting. With a jolt he remembered what had just happened.

He barely noticed Jaha and Luke approaching. "What's the matter, Deanna?"

"Did... did I do that?"

Luke peered with mock professionalism at the Iom soldier's corpse, as though seeking the answer to Deanna's question there. "Why, noohhhhh, dear lad. He tripped and fell, and his sword went flying in the air and landed on him point first. Then it ricocheted off him, hit that guy," he said, pointing to the lizardman's body, "...and that guy... and finally that guy," pointing to the two dwarves. He shook his head. "Darndest thing I ever saw."

"That sure was awesome, Deanna," Jaha added. "But you need to work on yer battle cry. That howl you gave right before you attacked the lizardman was pretty lame. Sounded like a she-wolf who just lost her cubs, or something." As he scurried off, he said, "Just fix that, and before long Iomites will be running for the hills at the mention of yer name. Hey Dawn! How many of 'em did you get?"

Deanna picked his sword off the ground, studied the blood on it, and then returned it to its scabbard. _I did it, Hindel. I don't understand how, but I did it; I wanted them to die._

"So, is Natasha allright?" Luke asked, looking around Deanna. "You don't look like a man without a leader, so - Hey! Am I seeing things, or is Natasha's robe sitting next to Mayfair in shreds? This day is getting better every minute."

He took a step towards the women, but Deanna reached out and firmly pushed him back with one hand. To make his meaning clear, he sternly shook his head.

Luke snorted. "I thought you might be homosexual when I first saw that haircut of yours, but let the rest of us have some fun, huh?" He pushed Deanna's hand aside and moved past him.

Deanna grabbed his arm and pulled it behind his back, forcing him to his knees.

"Ow! What do you think you're - OWWW! That hurts!" He squirmed to get free, but Deanna had practiced arm locks more than enough times to know how to do one properly, even though he'd never managed to pull one on a opponent in an actual match. After a few moments, Luke's head stopped its jerking about, and he yelled, "Eric! Help me out here!"

Deanna's head shot up; he hadn't realized that the centaur was beside them. His stomach felt weak. He didn't release Luke, however; for Natasha's dignity, he'd face down even a centaur.

Eric stood tall and gave a slight toss of his head. "Sorry, Luke. I'd like to get a peek at Dawn myself, but Natasha's our leader. Play Peeping Tom with someone else."

"Well isn't that lucky," Luke moped. "Only two women in this group, and both of 'em are commanding officers. Ow! Okay, okay! I'll look away if that's what you want." Deanna released him. "Geez! Some people," he grunted as he got to his feet.

He'd done it again. The monk had given in.

That being the case, what reason was there to accept his insults? None. "By the way, Luke," he said, "...I am _not_ a pervert."

"Okay, okay. Waste of time peeking at Natasha's bod, anyway. Those robes she wears hide her shape pretty well, but I can tell she's got nothing there worth seeing."

Deanna clenched his fists, reminding himself that Luke was not truly her enemy, that he would in fact fight for her survival. That was more than enough reason to forgive.

Almost as an afterthought, he remembered what _he_ had done to _Luke_.


	10. Chapter 10: Within Reach

- Chapter 10: Within Reach -

The elf stepped up to an attendant and cleared his throat. This was apparently a signal that the present company was of a distinguished sort, because the attendant straightened up and lowered his gaze from the force. "Roue, these are visitors from Cypress. Their leader is General Mayfair. They've come to speak with the king. Can you please show them to the guest rooms while I approach His Majesty?"

"Yes, sir." As soon as the elf stepped away, Roue gave a short bow to Mayfair and said to the group, "If you'll all come with me..."

As he led them down a passage, Natasha couldn't help but notice how modest the castle's interior was compared to Castle Cypress. The stone walls showed crude workmanship, and the only decoration was the small torches which provided light. As they moved on, the air gradually became stale, almost like the underground levels of Castle Cypress.

"Chester was kind of rude, wasn't he?" she whispered to Mayfair. "Not even a 'by your leave' before he rushed off."

"Emild doesn't adhere much to formality. It's not that they're disrespectful; they simply don't have a set of rules to go by."

"Sounds like you know Emild pretty well," she remarked, looking on Mayfair with interest.

She shook her head. "Actually, I've never visited before. But Prince Nicholas was very thorough when he briefed me for my new position."

"Here you are," Roue announced, guiding them into a narrow hallway with three doors on each side. "These rooms are all unoccupied, so make yourselves at home. If you need anything, just yell, and I should hear you."

With a few nods of silent assent among themselves, the Cypress troops retired. Natasha and Dawn took one room, Jaha and Luke another. Mayfair, Slade, and Deanna each took a room alone.

Just as she was closing the door behind her, Natasha overheard some words of conflict. Graham was trying to follow Eric into his room.

"Hang out somewhere else. I don't mix with traitors." To drive the point home, Eric stomped the floor with one of his front hooves.

Graham meekly backed away, darting his head about for a place to go.

"I wouldn't mind another body in the room," she heard Slade say from the other side of the hall. "Least of all a fellow of Thames. You can share with me if you want."

After a moment's hesitation, Graham shrugged and followed the priest into his room.

"He seems nervous around clergymen," Dawn commented.

Natasha jumped; she hadn't realized Dawn was standing behind her, looking over her head. "Ah... Yeah, I think you're right. Any idea why?"

Dawn shrugged. "A guy like him is probably intimidated by anyone with that kind of authority. Remember, he did betray his country." She turned and stepped back into the middle of the room. "Boy, I can really use a nap."

Clearing her throat, Natasha said, "About this competition you and Jaha have been having..."

"Worried that I'm getting too chummy with him? Relax; I'd never get involved in shirking duty, and Jaha knows it."

Taking a deep breath, Natasha walked around in front of her friend to get her attention. "No, I don't like the competition itself. How can you make a contest out of _killing people_?"

"Natasha, come on; you're just as eager to slaughter Iomites as I am!"

"Because I want to save Prince Nick and Cypress! I still respect those lives; I'm not on some vicious bloodthirsty kick!"

Dawn folded her arms. "We're in rough times here, Natasha. Our country is being invaded, our ruler has left on a dangerous mission, and up until a few minutes ago it looked like we'd lost the Sword of Hajya. I'm sorry, but I need something to cheer me up." She loosened her arms to stretch. "Anyway, there's nothing you can do about it. You could order us to cut it out, I suppose, but that might not sit well with Mayfair."

That was true. Mayfair wanted them all to be happy, and she probably wouldn't shed any tears for Iomites after what they'd done to her. Dawn wasn't saying it to be smug, either; she just wanted to stop the arguing.

Natasha walked past her, back to the door.

"Hey... Where are you going?"

"Deanna's room. Mayfair ordered me to try and keep him company."

"Don't be a sourpuss. Can't we just agree to disagree?"

Still not looking back, she answered testily, "I'm not making this up. She told me that Deanna needs a friend."

"Well, you can't spend the night in a room with a boy, you know."

"Obviously I'm coming back here later to sleep with you." She turned to cast a nonchalant look at Dawn. "Or maybe Mayfair will let me bunk with her. Either way."

Dawn smiled with tentative amusement. "Then why are you bringing your things with you?" she asked, gesturing to the bag Natasha carried.

"None of your business," she said, and shut the door behind her.

----------------------

Deanna failed to answer her first knock, so she called softly against the wood of the door, "Deanna? It's me." The door was opened two seconds later.

As he stood there, she noted that he wasn't slouching quite so much. Maybe his successes on the battlefield were helping him regain confidence.

"Well, can I come in?"

Giving one of his blushes, he shuffled aside and held the door for her. She offered him a sympathetic look; it never failed to pain her when she saw how awkward he was. Then she hefted her bag and pulled out four books, tossing them one-by-one on top of his dresser.

"Lucky that I happened to have my book on flame magic with me during that guard duty. I think I've figured out Blaze level 2 now. Want to see it?"

Deanna scratched his head. "Blaze level 2? But... I thought you just started on that one... before we left."

"Hard to believe it was only two days ago, isn't it?" She bashfully lowered her head, then immediately pushed away the strands of hair that fell over her face. "Using spells in real combat helps me learn them faster; otherwise it would have taken me... Deanna, why are you studying me like that?"

He turned to look at the wall opposite the door. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry; it's just -"

"Where'd you get the other books from?"

She hesitated a moment, thrown off by the change in subject. "I stopped by the library here. It's much smaller than the one at Castle Cypress, but I found what I needed, more or less." Deanna was still looking at the wall, making her feel like she was talking to no one. With a sigh, she moved to put the book of flame magic back in her bag. "But I guess you're not interested in -"

"I'm interested." She looked back over her shoulder, and her eyes met his - the one that wasn't hidden by his haircut, that is. "Show me. Please."

The guest rooms were large, and they quickly cleared a space better than ten square feet. Natasha seated herself at the edge of this area, while Deanna sat on the bed, out of the way.

She closed her eyes to clear her mind, to concentrate the basic power needed. She hadn't had total success with the spell yet, so it was important to take her time. When she was ready, she opened her eyes to target the magic.

"Blaze."

A sphere of flame erupted, filling the open area of the room. She could almost feel the flames kissing her cheeks. A few seconds later, it was out.

She turned to Deanna. "What do you think?"

He had no words to offer her, but she could tell by the look on his face that he was impressed.

"Of course," she said, unexpectedly claimed by melancholy, "...most of the time that I'll be casting it, people will be in there."

She heard Deanna hop down from his bed, could sense him standing beside her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," she said, taking a deep breath. "I told myself that I came here to be a friend to you, but I guess it's me who needs a friend right now."

"Dawn?"

She nodded. "I'm sure you've heard her and Jaha talking about their body counts. I can't stand it." She hunched over slightly, clenching her fists. "I loved my family, with all my heart. Then Woldol came, and his damn followers killed them. I've never understood that. They weren't soldiers; there was no need for it. How could anyone take lives as if they meant nothing? And now Dawn talks like them, as though these lives are a joke."

She wanted Deanna to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, maybe even say a reassuring word or two. But he made no move. Taking another deep breath, she went on, "Maybe she's right; we do have to kill these Iom soldiers anyway. Cypress needs us to. But knowing that she thinks that way... I don't know if I can be her friend anymore."

A silence passed, but at the end of it Deanna spoke up at last. "Don't you have... other friends?"

"Yes. But they're not here... and I'm just..." She shook her head violently, unable to express what she felt. "...I'm just so worried about everything."

"It'll be over soon. We just need to pick up the sword, and you can go home and see your friends."

"One friend isn't the same as another." She got to her feet, eager now to change the subject. "Never mind. You know, I was thinking... about how quickly you taught me Egress." She looked up at him hopefully. "I thought... it would be nice if you could teach me another spell."

Deanna looked to the floor, and she could read self-recrimination on his face. "I only know Egress."

"I know _that_, but maybe, while I'm working on Freeze level 2, you could learn another spell, then teach it to me when you're done." She fidgeted with the sleeve of her robes. "It's asking a lot, but I thought maybe you'd want to learn a new spell anyway... if you're not interested, that's fine."

"...Did you have a spell in mind?"

She went back to his dresser and pulled off one of the books she'd brought. She handed it to him. "How about Spark?"

Deanna frowned as he took the proffered book and opened it to a random page. "Isn't that kind of a tough one?"

"Well... I thought, since you seem to understand magic pretty well..."

But of course, she hadn't thought of his capabilities at all. She'd only been thinking of herself, of the spells that she wanted to learn. So she'd chosen the combat spell that she thought she'd have the most trouble with on her own. Poor Deanna, meanwhile, was too embarrassed to refuse her.

_I am such a jerk._ "You're right, I probably wouldn't be able to understand it," she said quickly, grabbing back the book.

But he held onto it tightly. "You're going to give up just like that?" he taunted. "Quitter."

"Let go of the book, Deanna."

"Naw. This looks interesting. I bet I can learn it before you learn Freeze level 2."

"Oh, grow up!" she snapped at him, releasing the book. Deanna had been giving a good impression of simply holding onto it where he stood, but when she let go he stumbled back a few steps. "I like you better when you're quiet and keep looking away! At least then you're sincere."

Then she caught herself. "I mean -"

"Don't."

She froze at the firmness in his voice, though it was meek in absolute terms. Clutching the book in his arms, he looked up at Natasha and, to her surprise, managed a crooked and feeble smile. "That's one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me. Don't change it."

She was speechless for a moment. "You're very forgiving."

He shook his head. "Natasha, I... I'd like to teach you Spark."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. Maybe I can't do it," he said, idly flipping through the book, "...but I'd like to at least try."

"…Allright. You can do a lot when you try." He looked up at her inquisitively, so she went on, "You've been doing really well in battle... since we had that talk, I mean. Have you thought about that? You had the strength and the skill all along. You just needed to try."

But Deanna shook his head. "I've always tried. That's not enough."

"What else could it be? You've been fighting better than any of us lately." When he offered no answer, she reached out and took his right hand in both of hers, subconsciously hoping to offer support and confidence through that contact.

"Hey," she said, "...we're good friends now, right? But I still don't know much about you. Where are you fr-"

She stopped, suddenly remembering his aversion to touch. "Oh no; I'm doing it to you again," she said with a nervous laugh, releasing his hand.

After a moment's hesitation, Deanna said, "No, it's... it's alright. I've gotten used to... your touch." He proffered his hand to her. It was trembling as much as his voice.

_It must be pretty tough on him. To learn to reach out to people, after all his father did to him._

The door popped open, making her jump. Deanna's hand fell back to his side.

Luke poked his head in. "Hey Deanna, Jaha and Eric and I were -" He noticed Natasha. "Uh, nevermind," he finished. He ducked back out, slamming the door behind him.

"Sounds like they're up to another one of their pranks," she said to Deanna. "Luke must have come here to invite you in on it."

"Why would he do that? I mean... after what I did to him..."

"Luke didn't exactly have a good look at what went on in that fight, if you know what I mean. When we told him that he got hurt because you didn't back him up, he basically just shrugged. He didn't see it happen, so all that mattered to him was that he was still alive."

"Not that. He was... getting into mischief... and I pulled his arm behind his back until he promised not to."

That was new. "You see? I told you he's not as tough as you." She patted his shoulder. "You probably earned his respect, too. And even though you're a sergeant, you haven't been the one giving orders, so he doesn't fear you like he does me." She turned and went to the door. "Anyway, excuse me, but I'd better go make sure that they're not up to anything worse than stealing the contents of a servant's closet. See you later."


	11. Chapter 11: Within Reason

- Chapter 11: Within Reason -

Victory seemed to be well in hand until the first corpse pushed its way up from the ground. The sight astonished Deanna; was this Gordon's doing? He didn't want to believe that a general of Iom would stoop to using the dead, but the corpses had to have been planted there somehow, and the indications were pretty clear that the Iom army had built this tunnel.

Most of the others had stronger reactions to the appearance of zombies. Jaha yelped and clung to Luke's leg, Chester cried something in an unfamiliar language, May looked ready to faint, and he could have sworn that Eric actually _shrieked_.

"Stay calm, everyone!" Natasha called out. "It's just more enemies to fight, and you've all done very well so far. Tackle them, three people to each enemy - no more!"

Deanna stole a moment to glance at Natasha setting flame to a zombie, admiring her skill with magic and her tactical instincts at the same moment. She knew that if everyone teamed with their closest comrades, the isolated members of the force would be overwhelmed. Rather than waste time trying to order each of them into position, she had given a simple command that would give the desired formation. The division of troops did leave an odd man out, and she had bravely taken that role herself. It wasn't mere bravado, though; zombies are more vulnerable to flame than anything else, making her the most powerful soldier in this fight.

Reminding himself that Mayfair would step in if the enemy was too much for Natasha to handle alone, he turned his thoughts from her and moved to join Graham and May. Graham had just fired a bolt into an approaching zombie and was loading another. "C'mon, May," he said, sweat running down his face. "I've seen you do magic. Zap him now!"

The mage had a look of consternation on her face. She wasn't going to act.

Deanna suddenly remembered Natasha's fondness for human contact; could touch give confidence somehow? He reached out and put a supportive hand on May's shoulder, forcing out a whisper as he did so. "Courage."

May started at the contact, but the sound of his voice kept her from thinking it to be an enemy. She moved into a focused stance, reached out a hand, and shouted, "Freeze!"

Ice particles swarmed over the zombie. The spell didn't seem to hurt it much, but the frost in its joints slowed it down to a weak crawl. It was child's play for Deanna to slice off its head. When the creature continued to move, he did the same with one of its legs, sending it toppling to the ground.

"Whew! Nice work, May." Graham cocked his crossbow. "Let's go get another."

Deanna moved ahead of the other two, as neither one had the armor to withstand a zombie attack. Hefting his sword at the next corpse, he took a sudden blow to the chest, staggering him.

He cursed himself for his overconfidence. It was easy to look at a zombie's awkward movements and moldy appearance and assume that they were always slow. An arrow fired by Graham kept the zombie at bay long enough for Deanna to regain his composure and begin a proper attack.

"Kindly step back a pace, Deanna." As soon as he followed May's request, she said, "Blaze!" and the zombie was lit into flame. It continued to stumble forward blindly, so he ducked in to slash at its waist. Weakened by the fire, it crumbled at the blow, and the creature fell in two.

Deanna looked around the battlefield. The others had taken down not only all the zombies, but Gordon's priest as well. Gordon himself had apparently tried to escape, but Dawn and Eric now blocked the path out of the tunnel.

The Iom general glared at them with inhuman eyes. "Fools. You'll die yet."

"On my command, everyone," Natasha said, meeting Gordon's gaze. "Together we can beat him. For Prince Nick! For Cypress! NOW!"

Deanna, Jaha, Luke, and Dawn came at him as one, with Chester, Graham, Eric, and Natasha right behind them to attack from a distance. Gordon lifted his hand towards the mass and cried, "Freeze!"

"No!" May suddenly dove past Deanna and into the path of Gordon's spell. A ball of winter erupted, carrying a cascade of frost and icicles, with May at its center. Though he'd never seen it before, Deanna realized that it had to be Freeze level 2. If May hadn't blocked it, it would have hit several of them.

May collapsed to the ground, but there was no time to look to her; Gordon had to be stopped before he could hurt anyone else in the group. Deanna leapt up to the Iom general, who raised his staff to defend himself. Gordon's blocks were no match for his swordplay, however, and in a pair of seconds his sword had taken a deep draught of blood. Jaha followed up Deanna's attack by pounding his axe into Gordon's hip.

"You -" Gordon raised his staff to pummel the dwarf, but a stroke of Dawn's lance disarmed him. In the same instant, Luke's staff slammed into the back of his head, knocking him forward. The Iom general's hand feebly reached up, perhaps to again cast Freeze, but it was immediately pierced by one of Chester's arrows. The hand recoiled in pain.

From there on, they didn't give Gordon even the semblance of a chance to attack. One after another they struck at him, their attacks coming in far too quick succession for their foe to even think, much less defend himself. Deanna again reflected on how wonderful it was to be part of a team, to be supported by others and to support them in turn.

"Hold! Stand down, everyone." At Natasha's command, they backed off from Gordon. She announced, "I think he's dead." Deanna would have been shocked if he wasn't; he looked worse now than the ugliest of the zombies.

He'd never thought it would come to this: killing a general of Iom. He had turned traitor to protect the Cypressians and recover the Sword of Hajya, nothing serious beyond that. Yet when he thought of what Gordon had done to Emild, he had no regrets.

"Our king is avenged," Chester said solemnly.

"May, are you alright?" Natasha was helping the Emild mage to her feet.

"F-f-f-fine," May answered in spite of her violent shivers and chattering teeth.

Mayfair stepped forward, dragging along one of the zombie bodies. "There are plenty of torches here for a fire," she said with a sympathetic look towards the catperson, "...but I'm afraid this is the best we have for fuel." She dropped the zombie before May, but before she could retrieve a torch, Natasha used Blaze to set it alight.

"Th-th-th-thank you," she said, huddling before the fire's warmth. Deanna's heart, chilled by the bloody act of betrayal he'd committed, was equally warmed by the sight of Natasha's kindness.

"You shouldn't have done that, May," Natasha said in gentle remonstrance. "That spell could have killed you."

Rubbing her arms to dispel the cold, May shook her head. "W-w-when you kn-kn-know a spell r-r-really well, you c-c-can r-r-ride its effect... d-d-dull the impact..."

Natasha brought a half-fisted hand to her mouth, clearly interested. "I never knew that. Does that work with Blaze?"

"D-d-don't see why not."

Mayfair spoke up. "Allow me to congratulate you. Natasha, your leadership was brilliant. Your skills have grown better than I could have imagined... look at what you've just accomplished."

"Not me," Natasha said. "It was all of us who did it."

Dawn smiled at Natasha. "You always told us that when we work together as a team, we can do anything. Looks like you were right." She turned to Jaha. "Speaking of which, I got eight. How about you?"

"Six," Jaha answered glumly. "Darn close! You just wait, Dawn; I'll beat you next time."

"Here's the sword," Mayfair said, recovering it from beneath Gordon's body. "Our mission is completed. Now, let's return to Cypress."

"It's too soon to claim victory."

Deanna started; the voice that had spoken was unfamiliar. It had a thick, menacing quality. He cast his eyes about for some sign of its owner.

"I reckon you're right, at that," Luke answered the voice. "Heck, half of us are still virgins."

The unseen stranger laughed. It was hard to tell whether it was out of appreciation for Luke's humor or simple mockery, however. "You've already lost."

"We lost, huh?" Jaha remarked, shifting his helmet about. "Coulda fooled me."

"Quiet, everyone," Mayfair ordered. To the voice she said, "Who are you? Are you an ally of Iom?"

"I can't reveal my true name." This time, Deanna listened carefully, and was able to estimate the source of the voice. He began moving toward it quietly.

"What do you mean we've already lost?"

"The Cypress expedition has fallen to Iom." Deanna came to a sudden halt; the voice now seemed to be coming from another part of the tunnel. "Your Prince Nick has been taken hostage. If you want to rescue him, go to Portobello, then cross the sea to Iom."

Mayfair returned with a brief laugh that was not completely free of malice, "You're lying! It can't be true. I won't believe you!"

"Mayfair?" Natasha said. Deanna looked to see her edging towards the general, a worried look on her face. He wondered whether it was King Nicholas, Mayfair, or both that she was worried about.

"Then go to Portobello and discover the truth for yourself!" the voice said with impatience. "Go and confront Iom with the Sword of Hajya."

Mayfair did not answer, and a dark silence fell over the tunnel. Deanna looked around; everyone seemed to be waiting tensely for her judgment. For his own part, he wasn't sure which choice to hope for. A trip to Iom might give him the chance to contact Hindel and sort everything out, but it would also put the Cypressians in grave danger.

"Mayfair?" Natasha prodded anxiously. "If... if he was telling the truth... we can't abandon Prince Nick."

After a moment more of silence, Mayfair turned and began walking back out of the tunnel. "Prince Nick captured," she said in an irritated voice to no one in particular. "Good spirits, what nonsense. We'll go to Portobello and discover the truth. And if I find that Castle Cypress was attacked during this delay..."

"General Mayfair," Chester spoke up, "...I'll accompany you to Portabello. It's the least I can do after what you've done for Emild."

"I as well," May added. "And if your ruler _has_ been captured, I will gladly join your efforts to recover him. It would be a pleasure to strike back at Iom."

Mayfair turned to face them. "Thank you," she said with a smile. She suddenly seemed back to her normal self. "But King Nicholas has not been captured; you can trust me on that. We're only going to Portabello because I would be failing in my duty to ignore such a warning."

She paused a moment. "We are certain to encounter trouble in Portabello. So, there's no reason not to make use of this." She pulled the Sword of Hajya forth, held it horizontally with one hand at each end, and presented it to Deanna.

He gazed at it in mute shock. "Deanna, I saw King Nicholas wield this sword against Woldol; it's an exceptional blade. I'm sure His Majesty wouldn't mind you using it in his service."

"No!" Natasha cried out. He turned his head to look at her. "That's Prince Nick's sword! Deanna isn't -" She suddenly caught herself, then broke into a blush.

"Natasha?" Mayfair said. "What's wrong? Deanna isn't what?"

_Isn't worthy_, Deanna answered silently. He knew Natasha well enough by now to be sure that that was what she had been going to say.

And she was right, of course. He was not worthy to wield the blade of a king, nor the blade of a man so admired by Natasha. He turned back to Mayfair and said, "It... looks a bit heavy for me. I'm honored by the offer, but I think I'll do better with my own sword."

Mayfair stared at him in astonishment. "Deanna!"

"Huh?"

Mayfair put the Sword of Hajya back in her robes and suddenly threw her arms around him. "Deanna, you spoke to me! You're talking to me again!" Laughing, she planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Er... ah..." Deanna's face flushed, his mind a confused whirl. He'd never received such affection from anyone but Hindel since he was four, and even Hindel hadn't been this demonstrative in years.

"I think you've struck him mute again," Jaha observed.

----------------------

They encountered a squadron of Iom soldiers at Portabello. As always, the fear came to Deanna, urging him to hide. He again reminded himself that Natasha was in danger, and the fear was pushed aside like an antiquated atlas. At Natasha's order, he threw himself onto the fray.

So long as a threat to her remained, he could not allow himself rest.

----------------------

"So, it's true," Mayfair said, releasing the quivering Iom mage. "Cypress was defeated! And the Prince is being held captive in the fort at Algam."

Deanna had been anxiously watching Natasha grow paler and paler. At Mayfair's last statement she gave a moan of despair and ran from the rest of them. Surprisingly, Mayfair took no notice; she seemed too wrapped up in her own concern over the prince.

He cast a look at Dawn, expecting her to go and comfort her friend. But the centaur only sighed as she watched Natasha run off. Noticing Deanna's look, she said, "She always has to be a drama queen about Prince Nick. I wish she'd wake up and realize that she's only making herself sick."

He wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but he knew that he couldn't leave Natasha alone with her pain. Without a word, he took off after her.

Turning a corner, he found her pressed against the wall of a cold stone building, her head buried in her arms. The sound of her weeping seemed to give voice to the rusty grinding in his heart. He longed to offer her some sort of solace, and the way he had calmed May earlier came to mind.

This was different, though. To lay a hand on such a perfect creature as Natasha... seemed wrong. Besides the reverence he had for her spirit, his assessment of her looks had gone through a gradual but enormous change over the past week. Though he had at first found her plain, more and more he was noticing details such as the smoothness of her cheeks, the curve of her shoulders, the graceful way she pushed back her hair on that occasion when it fell across her face...

He reminded himself that Natasha needed comfort the same as anyone else. Struggling against his misgivings, he reached out and put a hand on her immaculate shoulder, forcing himself to speak her name in the same moment.

She looked back at him. "Deanna..." She suddenly turned and pressed her face against his chest. He continued to hold her shoulder in support, though his arm felt as though it might dissolve at any moment.

"You're... worried about the king?"

"I should have gone with him," she sobbed. "I should be at his side now."

"But... then you wouldn't have been here to lead us..." His voice became a low mumble. "And you wouldn't have been here for me..."

"I know, I know." She wiped away her tears. "You're right. But... to think of Prince Nick... in the hands of the Iomites..." She sniffed. "You probably already know this... everybody else does... but... I'm in love with Prince Nick. ...Deanna, your hand's getting too tight."

"Sorry," he said meekly, relaxing his grip. The moment she'd told him she was in love with King Nicholas, his whole body had tensed up. The idea of the match was good; after all, only a king could really be worthy of Natasha. But the odds of the Cypressian king being recovered from Iom alive were next to nothing, and even if he survived, there was no guarantee that he would return Natasha's affections. He hated the thought of her having to suffer that kind of pain.

...But no, that didn't really explain it, he admitted to himself. Sympathy wouldn't make him tense like that. That sort of animal reaction implied a personal threat.

"Don't worry," he said, covering up his own doubt. "We still have you and Mayfair to guide us. We've overcome all the forces Iom has thrown at us so far. If there's a way to rescue your king, we'll do it."

Natasha blinked. "_Our_ king."

"Oh. Yes. I just meant... he's your... your love, so..."

"I understand." She leaned her head back against him, and he experienced a confusing split between feeling that his heart was about to break and feeling that he could conquer the world. "Thank you," she whispered fervently.

They remained like that in silence for several moments. Her body was meltingly warm against the cool of the day, and her hair smelled faintly of flowers. His arm now seemed to have lost all feeling, as though the gods had intervened to prevent the sacrilege of a weakling like him enjoying contact with her.

Then Natasha lifted her gaze, quietly looking at his face like an infant watching the mobile above her crib. "We... we should get back to the others," he said, uncomfortable at her scrutiny.

"Deanna," she said, ignoring his words(or perhaps he'd spoken too softly for her to hear), "...why don't you cut your hair shorter? You'd look much better if half your face weren't hidden. I could cut it for you..."

She was obviously trying to distract herself from worrying over Prince Nick, but he couldn't bring himself to go along. "No."

"Oh, come on. That's a terrible haircut for you."

He shrugged with the arm that wasn't holding her. "I'm not changing it."

She sighed, "Well, will you at least let me see your whole face just once?"

His inclination was to say no, but he hated to refuse her anything. Though he wasn't sure exactly what she had in mind, he managed a reluctant nod of his head.

She reached her hand up towards his face. He flinched in spite of himself, but she didn't seem to notice as she carefully pulled the long sweep of his hair away from his face. He cringed at this exposure, but she continued to mercilessly survey his face.

"Wow," she said at last.

"What?"

"Don't take this the wrong way," she said with a giggle, "...but you're kind of a heartthrob."

He lowered his eyelids as a fierce blush came over his face.

"You fluster pretty easily, don't you?" she remarked, grinning. "Wonder what you'd have done if I'd kissed your cheek, like Mayfair."

"I'm glad that I amuse you," he said bitterly, and reached up to take her hand away from his hair. The locks fell back over his face, leaving him again half-sheltered by darkness.

Her grin collapsed into a look of abject sorrow. "Oh Deanna, I didn't mean -"

"Please, let's just get back to the others."

"Deanna, you know me; you know I have a big mouth -"

"I do," he interrupted. "But I also know that you never say anything that you don't mean."

"It was just a joke!"

He shook his head as he turned away. "I'm the joke." She had no reply to that.

_What is wrong with me?_ He didn't want to be angry with her, but for some reason he couldn't help it. His blood cried out for the need to push her away, to strike back, even as he hated himself for hurting her. The impulse was as disturbing as it was painful.

Somehow, he had to sort out what his feelings for Natasha meant.


	12. Chapter 12: Without Her

- Chapter 12: Without Her -

It was while boarding the ship bound for Iom - the oddest of moments - that Deanna finally realized that he was in love with Natasha.

It wasn't a conclusion that he made casually. Deanna didn't understand all of other people's emotions, but his own could be fairly complex; they didn't categorize naturally, and he didn't try to make them. The signs were all there, though, and it neatly explained his negative behavior earlier: he was jealous of Prince Nick. The absurdness of his jealousy nearly made him laugh out loud. As if he would have stood a chance with Natasha under any circumstances.

His love for her was plainly hopeless, as it would have been with any woman. He wasn't... emotionally equipped for courtship, and still less for marriage. In Natasha's case, there was the added complication of his nationality. Once she found out who he really was, she would hate him from then on. To say nothing of how unworthy he was of her on every level, even aside from the other two matters.

Knowing the hopelessness of his love was, ironically, liberating. He was freed from the pointless angst of not owning her, freed to enjoy simply knowing her.

In the midst of his thoughts, Deanna noticed her come on board and stand apart from the others. He took the opportunity to approach her. "Natasha..."

She turned around, an uncertain look upon her face. He came halfway to a kneel before her. "Natasha, I'm so sorry I said those horrible things to you. I wasn't... wasn't being fair. Please forgive me." He wanted to say more, wanted to give voice to the depth of his regret, but the words hid themselves in his throat.

She laughed briefly, but her laughter was kind. "Deanna, come on, get up. Of course I forgive you." When he again came up to her eye level, she smiled. His heart soared. "I'm just glad you still want to be friends."

"I'll always want to be your friend," he said softly, and on impulse added, "Even if you hate me one day, remember, I'll always try to be a friend to you."

"Deanna! Don't talk like that. Why don't we - Oh, no."

She was looking at something over his shoulder, so he turned around to see. Slade was standing on the edge of the seaward side of the ship, with Eric and Jaha hovering behind him. Luke stood a short distance off, orchestrating the spectacle.

"So ye won't drop yer pants for the captain, eh, matey? Then walk the plank!"

"Walk the plank!" Jaha chorused, and Eric prodded the priest forward with his spear.

"Excuse me," Natasha said, and ran off towards the troublesome trio and their hapless victim.

Luke spotted her coming and fled, shouting, "Avast, me hearties! We're being boarded!"

Eric and Jaha, realizing that running off would only get them into deeper trouble, gloomily waited to receive a thorough tongue-lashing. Slade cast a timid look over his shoulder, uncertain still as to whether or not he'd have to take a dunking.

Deanna heard Mayfair saying something about setting the ship off, so he followed after Natasha and helped Slade down from his perch. It wouldn't be good to have him up there when the ship started moving.

"Thank you, Deanna," Slade said, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow.

"...ever think what would have happened if the boat were to start moving?" Natasha was yelling. "Help him down from there n- Oh. Deanna, did you -?"

"He's a fine young man, I say," Slade answered. "You and he make a nice couple."

"...I think you've misunderstood things."

"Oh? Yes, I do that sometimes."

"Excuse me, but I have to go find Luke. Deanna, you can make sure those two stay out of trouble, can't you?" She took off without waiting for an answer.

There was an awkward silence. Then Jaha said, "We were just kidding around."

"Oh, really? Then what's this blood doing on my seat?" Slade demanded, pointing to the spot where Eric had poked him with his spear.

"I hear that healers absorb the blood from wounds into their bodies, then eject it as urine," Eric snickered. "Looks to me like you just wet yourself."

"Never mind. I don't know why I bother with you." He reached a hand behind himself to heal the tiny puncture.

Deanna supposed that he should do something to reprimand Eric - fix him with a scathing glare, at least. But without Natasha there, he felt small and incapable.

"There you all are." Deanna looked up; it was Mayfair. "Two of His Majesty's company just arrived; we're going to have a meeting. Everybody off." With a couple of groans from Eric and Jaha, they complied.

He was marching to the gangplank with the others when the ship heaved beneath him. He heard Slade give a cry, followed immediately by a loud whack. Jaha said, "Mayfair, what -"

"The ship is moving on its own!"

Deanna looked; the pier was gradually moving away from them. Nearly half the force had already disembarked, including...

_Natasha!_

He sprinted for the side of the ship, ignoring the shouts of the others, and hoisted himself up to make a dive for land.

Strong arms seized him just as he was about to leap. "You idiot! What are you trying to do?" It was Eric. He yanked him back from the edge and released him onto the deck. "You could have broken your neck, Deanna!"

_It wouldn't have mattered_, he answered silently, remaining on his hands and knees, staring at the deck of the ship. Its drab, aged wood seemed to reflect his new failure. _What good am I alive, if I can't protect her?_

_I can't even be by her side now, when she… she…_

He shook himself and got back to his feet. _Natasha may be alright. Even if she isn't, you have other responsibilities. You owe the other Cypressians almost as much as you owe Natasha. And you have to do what you can to keep Iom from being destroyed in this war._

----------------------

Several minutes later, they were all at the end of their ropes. Mayfair had taken firm command at first, directing them to setting the sail so that they could fight their unnatural course. But the boom resisted their efforts like a demon, and swung about violently in a way that the wind should not have caused.

Fortunately, they all managed to duck in time. Unfortunately, for Eric this did no good(being a centaur), and he took a harsh blow to his side. Hopelessly flustered by the unexpected catastrophe, Mayfair could only look on in silent consternation as Slade moved to mend Eric's smashed ribs and the others made uncoordinated attacks on the wayward boom. Getting up from one particularly bad landing, Deanna reflected bitterly that the four of them must look like a comedy troupe, being tossed about by a simple shaft of wood.

Somehow they finally managed to tie the boom back down and turn their thoughts to the fact that their ship was still on a runaway course. "What are we going to do?" Eric hollered in a high-pitched tone.

"We need to take control of this ship," Jaha said, gripping his helmet in an apparent attempt to amplify his thinking power. "If Natasha was here..."

Indeed, if only she was here. It was incredible, Deanna realized: only a few minutes without her, and they were already falling apart like a castle made of sand. Chester was gibbering something about Iom, while May executed a series of bodily contortions on the wheel in a vain attempt to master the ship's direction and Jaha's rambling about Natasha's group drew sharp glares from Slade. Even Mayfair did nothing more than stand silently, her brow furrowed in an effort to concentrate. And himself? All he could do was stand and wait for one of them to come up with a solution.

"It's futile," said a voice that came from everywhere.

A shudder ran through Deanna as he frantically looked around for the speaker. Without Natasha to think of, fear again dominated his thoughts.

An old man materialized upon the wheel of the ship, startling May. His mystic robes lay eerily still, untouched by the motion of the ship. "You fools," he chuckled. "You guessed correctly. This is a trap! To separate you from your friends in Portobello."

As swiftly as Deanna's fear had materialized, it vanished, replaced by rage and despair. _The cowards. They couldn't beat Mayfair and Natasha fairly, so they split them apart, to slaughter us... to slaughter her..._

At the thought of Natasha cold and unbreathing with an Iom blade through her heart, his teeth clenched together and his hand pulled forth his sword. But the old man vanished, teleporting across the deck to the other side of the ship.

"It's too late for you." He raised his hand, and a small horde of soldiers and beasts of Iom materialized around him. "Say your last farewells, if you still have time."

"We're a long way from finished!" Mayfair shouted back to him. "Jaha, take the head! Deanna and Eric, flank him! Chester, May, give us covering fire. Slade, you defend Chester and May. For Cypress! Charge!"

"No!"

For a moment, Deanna wondered who had shouted. But when he noticed all of his comrades staring at him in shock, it quickly sunk in. The moment he'd heard Mayfair's orders, something felt wrong about them. But what? He'd voiced his reaction without having given it thought...

It snapped into his head. "We're on a ship," he explained. "They're going to have fliers ready at the sides. If we let them sucker us into a head-on attack... We need Jaha and Chester at one of the sides. Chester to shoot down the fliers, Jaha to defend. I'll take lead with Eric. The rest of you should stick close, and strike when you're needed." The words sounded foolish and arrogant as soon as they left his mouth. Once said, however, he knew he had to stand by them. Their lives depended on it.

At first Mayfair seemed speechless, but then she nodded. "Follow Sergeant Deanna's orders, everyone."

Mayfair's blessing was enough to dispel any doubts the others might have had about his plan. Deanna marched forward across the deck, and the loud clip-clop of hooves on wood told him that Eric was following. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a pixy with one of Chester's arrows in its side attacking Jaha. A swipe of Jaha's axe finished it.

As he and Eric came head-to-head with their own foes, two thoughts continued to ring in the back of his mind. _I'll lead them, the way you would have wanted, Natasha. And I won't stop until I know for sure whether or not you're still alive._


	13. Chapter 13: Without Him

- Chapter 13: Without Him -

"Hey," Dawn said, dropping back to come alongside Natasha. "...how are you holding up?"

"Fine."

A short silence passed, gently broken up by the whisper of Natasha's footsteps and the padding of Dawn's hooves. "Come on; I can tell that you're holding something in. Why won't you talk to me? I am your friend, you know."

Natasha brushed her fingers back through one side of her hair, while her other hand gripped her staff more tightly. With the feelings going on inside her, she was not in the mood to confront Dawn. "Leave me alone, please."

"I don't know why you're making the world of something that means so little to me. Are we just going to stay silent for the rest of this journey?"

"You can talk with Jaha. Oh wait, Jaha's not here anymore. Guess you're stuck with having to talk to me." She turned her look to the other side of the road, but not soon enough to miss Dawn's grimace.

"Talk that cruel doesn't suit you, Natasha. And it's not even true; you know darn well I like you more than Jaha. This isn't just about me, either." She trotted in front of Natasha, blocking her way. "I'm really concerned about you."

She gritted her teeth. "Out of the way, Dawn."

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"Do you want to start a scene?" The others were moving on ahead of them; it wouldn't be long before they noticed the hold-up.

They stared each other down for a few moments. At last Dawn shouted, "Dammit, Natasha!" and threw her spear into the ground. Natasha jumped back, startled less by Dawn's violent gesture than by her regression into coarse language. "Allright, you win. No more head-counting for me; it's not worth losing you as a friend. Are you happy now?" Her normally stony face looked on the verge of tears.

_Oh gods. What kind of friend am I? I may not like her attitude, but Dawn's always done right by me. She doesn't deserve that kind of treatment._

She threw her arms about Dawn's waist and began to cry. "I'm sorry, Dawn! I didn't mean to hurt you. It's just been hard for me... I didn't want to deal with what you and Jaha were doing."

"Natasha..."

Sarah's voice suddenly intruded. "I thought that woman was your leader."

"Bless me, but I didn't spy any reason to think that she _wasn't_," Luke answered in a stuffy voice. "Forsooth, she is our leader, but she is a girl too."

"Perhaps, but an outburst like that? She needs to learn to control herself."

"Ignore her," Dawn whispered. "Your passion is what makes you a great leader. I'm sorry I've been putting stress on you at a time like this. It's hard for me too, though."

"I know," Natasha said, releasing Dawn to wipe her eyes. Sarah was wrong about her, but there was certainly something to be said for keeping calm in a crisis. "Dawn, you don't have to give up your thing with Jaha. It isn't the competition itself that bothers me; it's knowing that you feel that way. And I can't make you change the way you feel."

"You sure you're allright with it?"

"I'm sure that I'm _terrible_ with it," she answered with a sour smile. "But we both need a friend right now, and I'm the only one here for you. I don't want to let you down."

Sarah cleared her throat loudly. "I hate to be insensitive, but can we start moving again here? Every minute that we waste increases the likelihood of our arriving too late to save Deanna's group. Unless you want their deaths on your hands..." She left the sentence unfinished, and turned back to the road.

"Let's go," Dawn said with a smile. She took a quick trot to catch up with Randolf and Lady Sarah. Natasha followed after her.

Randolf, Sarah, and Graham soon became engaged in a discussion of the possibilities of what they might find waiting in Iom, and Luke was constantly drifting around the group at a distance, whacking his staff at tree limbs in his boredom. Natasha and Dawn took the opportunity to continue their talk.

"So, what is it that's bothering you?" Dawn asked.

It was hard for her to say, but after half a minute she managed to get the words out. "I've been thinking about Deanna… wondering if he's allright."

Dawn bit her lip. "I hate to say this, but it'll make it easier for you in the long run... Their boat sailed off under an unknown force. Even if they survive whatever danger that brings them, they could still fall into the same trap King Nicholas did; Lady Sarah and Randolf didn't have a chance to warn them about it. I think we have to assume the worst."

"Yeah, that's what I figured, too," she sighed. "But I can't accept it. When I think of Deanna… dead…"

"He really is a good friend, then?"

"He's one of the best I've had. But it's not just that." She pushed the sleeve of her robes up and down her left arm, feeling foolishly afraid that voicing her new feeling would make it permanent. "Since the day I met Prince Nick, he's been engraved on my heart. After I heard he'd been captured by the Iomites, I couldn't get his face out of my head. Now, for some reason, whenever I try to think about Prince Nick, I see Deanna's face instead."

Dawn gave her a nervous smile. "Well, I hate to say 'We told you so,' but it looks like the general consensus of our little group on your feelings for Prince Nick were right."

She frowned. "I don't get you."

"Think about it, Natasha. Did you ever feel attracted to Deanna before that ship separated him from you?"

"I don't know." She wasn't sure that she felt attracted to him now, but… when she saw how brave he could be, or when she saw his eye look openly into hers, there was something there. "Not consciously, but I guess I must -"

"'Not consciously' is all that matters. Yet as soon as he's gone, you're hit by infatuation. Prince Nick's crown puts him out of your reach. Deanna's predicament does the same."

"What are you saying?" she demanded, her voice strained.

"Look, Natasha, I don't know for sure what this means. But here's what I think. You're a person of strong, positive emotions; it's natural for you to fall in love. But you don't want to be in a real relationship, so you attach yourself to men who can't be in a relationship with you."

"How can you say that?"

"Take it easy; I'm not saying your feelings are wrong."

"But those feelings _are_ wrong!" She remembered to keep herself under control; Dawn was only trying to help. If there was a problem here, the problem was with her own mind. "Why wouldn't I want to be in a relationship?"

Dawn shrugged, her face confessing that her mouth was greater than her comprehension. "I don't know. Maybe you're afraid to move on, to leave your old family in the past? Look, Natasha, it doesn't really matter. All that matters is, do you really love either Deanna or Prince Nick? I'm just trying to help you figure that out."

"Great." She put her face wearily in her hand. "I appreciate the help, but I'm more confused than ever. Look, I'm not _in love_ with Deanna at all. Prince Nick is better than him in every way. Stronger, braver, more handsome. It's just that -"

"Hold on a minute. 'Braver'? When have you ever seen His Majesty in battle?"

Natasha started. "I… guess I haven't. I just thought -"

"Good thing I'm here to catch these things."

She threw Dawn a sly look. "You're hoping I'll go with Deanna, aren't you?"

"I'm hoping you won't go with either, actually; neither one has much chance of surviving the month. But at least you'll have a shot with Deanna if he does survive."

"Dawn, you're so cheerful."

"Not saying it doesn't take the worry away. Anyway, go on."

"Well… Prince Nick's more stable than Deanna, too. Deanna is always taking me off guard with some of the things he says and does; sometimes he even talks like a different person."

"Maybe that's because he's nuts about you."

"He is not!"

"See? More resistance to the idea of a relationship. And you're denying what you feel for him out of loyalty to Prince Nick."

"Dawn, what makes you think you know what I feel for Deanna? I'm telling you, it's not love." _That's the problem with Dawn; she oversimplifies everything. Like how she thought giving up her competition with Jaha would solve our problems. Maybe there is a bit of romantic love between Deanna and me(Slade said it, too), but mostly I feel sort of… motherly towards him._ "Besides, loyalty is a good thing, isn't it?"

"If the person you're being loyal to cares, yes. But Prince Nick doesn't even know how you feel. You're wasting your time by sacrificing all your love to him."

"How can you call anything to do with Prince Nick a waste of time? Oh, listen to us," she sighed. "We're in enemy territory, our homeland at stake, and we've lost half our team. They may all be dead, and our King too. How can we talk about my love life at a time like this?"

"I know what I said before, Natasha, but don't give up hope. I don't want you to be too surprised if this turns out badly, but if King Nicholas and Deanna's group are still alive, we owe it to them not to give up."

"I didn't mean that; I was just saying that their troubles are a lot bigger than my silly feelings." She stared down at her shoes, watching them as they moved down the road, seeming to swing back and forth between the same two spots. "Maybe you're right. Maybe if my concern for a friend like Deanna can move Prince Nick's image from my mind, my feelings for him aren't that strong. Maybe I don't know what love is at all."

"...I hope you're not expecting me to argue."

She shook her head. "Funny, isn't it, the way our conversation is so dry when it's just the two of us. I wish Jane and Vyra were here."

"So do I. Besides, we could really use their help on the battlefield."

They walked on for several minutes in silence. When Natasha finally broke it, however, she did so without preamble. "We could really use Deanna, too. You know, Dawn, I think the main reason I miss him... is because talking to him always made me feel more confident before a battle. The way he listens, and forgives my stupid outbursts, and gets help from me, it makes me feel bigger." She sniffed. "Maybe I only think of him as a friend because of the strength I take from him."


	14. Chapter 14: Without Her II

- Chapter 14: Without Her (but _with_ certain substitutes) -

Chester had been assigned the current watch, but Deanna was too restless to go back to sleep. His was the next watch, anyway. To avoid being caught in a conversation with the elf, he wandered about the lower deck. His thoughts remained focused on Natasha, and whether or not she was still alive. If not, what was his next course? Revenge? He wondered if he'd have the strength for it without her.

"Pssst! Deanna!"

He looked around, and eventually spotted Eric and Jaha peeking from behind a door that they'd opened just a crack. "C'mere," Jaha whispered. "We found the rum."

This had all the markings of a cruel prank(he'd had plenty of experience to recognize one by now), and alcohol didn't interest him, anyway. He should just report them to Mayfair.

But something pushed him in the opposite direction. With Natasha gone, there was more than enough depression and bitterness to go around their little group. Why should he add to it by getting them in trouble? And in his current mood, even faux camaraderie was better than none.

With a mental shrug, he silently followed them into the room. It looked to be a storage room, with barrels of apples, crates of bread, boxes of weapons and equipment, and a large wall of kegs. However, there were three stools available, and Eric and Jaha had apparently cleared away a shelf for use as a counter. Deanna scratched his head; if this was a prank, he was having a hard time deducing its nature.

Jaha pushed up the extra tall stool for dwarves and climbed up, while Eric hefted one of the kegs onto his shoulders and brought it to the counter. Deanna pulled up one of the human stools.

"About dern time we got a break on this trip, eh?" Jaha said with a grin. "It'll be days before we hit port, and no one to put a lid on the fun, aside from General Mayfair." He pulled three glasses from his pack and laid them on the counter. "C'mon, Eric, fill 'em up. I can't wait to see if Iom rum is as devilish as they say."

"We have to decide what to drink to first," Eric countered.

"Oh, right. Deanna, you're the new one. It's yer call."

Deanna lowered his eyes. He hated it when people expected him to speak. Talking was even tougher when people expected him to than it was to just say something on his own.

"What's the matter?" Eric said. "You don't know what it means to drink to something?"

"Nah!" Jaha answered. "Cat's still got his tongue. The cat being Natasha."

"Yeah. He talks to her, but not the rest of us. Why is that, Deanna?"

He said nothing.

"Ah, ferget it!" Jaha said at last. "How 'bout we drink to Iom's defeat?"

Eric nodded. "Makes sense. It's their brew." He took a glass, held it under the keg, and opened the tap.

Deanna looked up, and with an effort forced the words out. "We'll drink... to the force. Our... our safety, and our friendship."

Eric paused. "Jaha?"

"Good with me."

"Three rums, coming up," Eric grinned, and dealt out full glasses. "Ready?"

"We take our first drink on the count of three," Jaha explained to Deanna.

"One, two, THREE!"

He'd come this far, so Deanna raised his glass to his lips with them. He didn't feel entirely good about it, remembering Hindel's disapproving words when he had once reached for a beer. Hindel considering drinking a weakness worse even than cowardice. But it was only a glass or two; he wasn't going to get drunk, and he certainly wasn't going to be drinking regularly.

The rum tasted foul. His every reflex commanded him to spew it out, but Eric and Jaha had taken their draughts without complaint. Not wanting to appear weak in front of them, he held it down.

"Not too bad," Eric remarked, licking his lips. "Not as fine as I'm accustomed to, but not bad."

"Kind of blah," Jaha said with disappointment. "Small wonder the Iomites don't have our fighting spirit. But it'll do. What do you think, Deanna?"

"Ah... Not bad."

"So, have you guys heard the one about the demon who went to Guardiana?"

As he told the joke, Jaha and Eric continued to take gulps of rum. Not wanting them to realize he couldn't stand the stuff, Deanna took a deep draught from his glass. To his surprise, the rum flowed down his throat much more smoothly this time, quietly warming his stomach. Its flavor was still distasteful, but the urge to heave it back up was diminished.

"Fill me back up!" Jaha bellowed with a laugh.

----------------------

Several glasses later, Deanna noticed that the boat seemed to be rocking much more wildly. There was no sense of uneasiness at the tossing and heaving, though. It was actually rather fun, all the more so because he had friends to share it with.

He lifted his chin slightly from the counter and smiled at Eric and Jaha. What good friends they were. The best friends anyone had ever had, never mind someone like him. Why hadn't he seen that before?

Jaha turned to look at him. The dwarf's face was beautifully round, like the moon. "Geez, Deanna looks like he's soused already!"

"Oh, that's normal. His species has a much weaker metabolism than ours."

"That can't be it. Luke can drink twice that much without getting glassy-eyed!"

"Luke uses Detox to clear the alcohol from his body while he drinks. Hadn't you noticed?"

"What? The lousy cheat. Alright, don't pour Deanna any more until we're good and soaked. Nothing worse than being around a drunk while yer still sober."

Looking at Eric, Deanna suddenly remembered how he'd pulled him away when he tried to jump off the ship to reach Natasha. Flooded with gratitude, he hoisted himself across the counter and flung a hand upon Eric's shoulder.

"Eric... I n-n-never th-th-thanked you... for s-s-saving the life... of a m-m-miserable wretch like m-me." He gave a snort of mixed amusement and disgust at his own stuttering.

Eric beamed. "My noble blood would never let me abandon a Cypressian in danger, not even one of the lower class."

"Don't let him fool yah, Eric," Jaha smirked, tossing back the remains of his glass. "He's just trying to butter you up!"

Deanna grinned back at him. He couldn't really follow what either one of them had said, but their voices radiated friendliness.

It was shocking. He'd never had male friends before. All the boys he'd known before had despised him and done all they could to humiliate him. Eric and Jaha supported and respected him. Perhaps that was the difference between Cypressians and Iomites? Or was it the difference between their ways of life?

Jaha polished off another glass. "When I get back to Castle Cypress... first thing I'm gonna do is get a whole tank of good Cypress whiskey, and savor every sweet little drop! After a few weeks of this stuff, I bet it'll taste like the drink of the gods! How 'bout you, Eric?"

"I'm not sure..." He took a gulp of rum. "There are so many people who will want to beg my forgiveness once they learn of my new greatness, it's hard to say who I should visit first. It's unbelievable how many jerks have dared to insult me since I joined the Cypress army. Maybe I should have my portrait drawn first." He mused for a moment, then turned to Deanna. "How about you?"

"Huh?"

"What's the first thing yer gonna do when you get back?" Jaha elaborated.

New sorrow swept over Deanna as he realized that there would come a time when he would see these new friends of his no more. He lowered his head, his grin disappearing. "I-I-I'm not going b-b-back to Castle C-C-Cypress."

"Returnin' to yer hometown, huh? You got a girl there?"

Deanna slapped his face down against the counter, tears flooding his face. Miserable... he was the most miserable person to ever live. "Natasha..." he croaked out.

"What'd he say?"

"Nutuzzia," Eric answered. "Strange name. Then again, he's sloshed; it's probably something else, slurred."

"Yeah. Doesn't sound like things are all hunky-dory with this girl, though."

"Is that true, Deanna? Did she break up with you?"

Rubbing his forehead against the counter in an effort to mop up his tears, Deanna answered, "N-n-no. She's in l-l-love with a b-b-better man... than m-m-me."

"Deanna, Deanna..." he heard Eric say in an amused tone. "The joke's on her. You're a hero now! You've slain countless hordes of Iomites, you've helped recover the great Sword of Hajya, and now you've even led the Cypress army to victory from the jaws of defeat. Whoever this other man is, he can't hold a candle to you now." He paused for a gulp of rum. "When this Nutuzzia of yours hears about your deeds, she'll see you in a whole new light. Mark my words."

"Th-th-that's not what I'm w-w-worried about. I'm... I'm afraid she's probably dead by now..."

"Oh, gosh," Jaha breathed. "You poor kid. Is that why you're so quiet?"

"Poor kid, nothing," Eric snapped. "Cypress soldiers never give up hope! You saved all our lives, Deanna... and you think you won't even have a girl waiting for you when you get back?"

"I... I don't..." Through the haze of alcohol, he was starting to think relatively straight again, and it hurt. He didn't want to think about Natasha anymore. He wanted the warm rum to run down his throat again and make him forget. With a sharp pounding of his glass, he demanded, "More rrrrrrum!" With a shrug, Eric took his glass and began pouring.

"Eric, no! I'm still mostly sober, and he's -"

"He's making us all drink slow, and we're letting him!" The centaur's face was twisted with a pained fury. "If death is all we can think of when we talk about this war, then we all need more drink. I say we see who can drown his sorrows the fastest!"

He passed out a new round. Deanna eagerly lifted his to his lips.

----------------------

Later, through the slippery haze that enfolded his brain, Deanna had a fleeting moment of awareness. The three of them had their arms slung over each others shoulders, with him in the middle, and they were singing. Eric and Jaha must have been singing a Cypressian song, but he didn't know any Cypressian songs, so he sang something his mother had sung to him once, when he was a little boy.

However, their voices were all so slurred that no one noticed. The songs seemed to blend together in a warm soupy melody.

----------------------

A burst of cold and wet jolted Deanna awake. He blinked his eyes, and a tremor of pain coursed through his head in response. Jaha was beside him, coughing and getting to his feet, his face similarly soaking wet. Mayfair, Chester, and Slade stood before them with empty buckets.

"Deanna," Mayfair said. "How can you have sunk this low?"

"This isn't his fault, General," Jaha interjected. "We lured him in here, told him it was cider -"

"No, Jaha," Deanna interrupted, rising to his feet. The movement made his stomach churn, and he vomited violently on the deck. After a few heavy gasps to catch his breath, he went on, "I... made my own choice. I'm sorry."

"I'm disappointed in you, Deanna," Mayfair said sadly. "This is how you chose to start off your role as leader of the group? By abandoning guard duty to get drunk?"

He said nothing.

She sighed. "I hope you'll do better in the future. All three of you, get to work on cleaning up your mess. Then dump out all that rum. When you're finished, report back to me." She turned and left with Chester and Slade.

Deanna stared at the floor. He felt lower than the puddle of puke lying there. _A hero? Eric called me a hero last night?_ It was almost enough to make him laugh.

"Deanna?" Jaha's voice was anxious. "I'm sorry. We usually stop before anyone passes out. I wasn't thinking this would happen."

He looked up; Eric was standing behind Jaha, his face echoing the dwarf's sentiments. "No," he said to them. "It... was fun. I wanted to do it. You're not to blame." He got to his feet and, fighting the crippling pain in his head, walked off to find a mop.


	15. Chapter 15: Two Reunions

- Chapter 15: Two Reunions -

Studying the manacles that firmly clamped his wrists to the stone wall of his cell, Prince Nicholas reflected on how well everything was going so far. His capture had occurred just as expected, and he'd secured the escape of all his close friends and officers. A few brave Cypressians had given their lives in the ambush at Algam fields, but that was unavoidable no matter how he fought this war. It only meant a few more deaths for Iom to account for in the final reckoning.

Most importantly, his own death hadn't been ordered yet, which probably meant that Warderer intended to take him to Iom's temple to be sacrificed, as he'd expected. Everything was going according to plan.

Observing the damp straw beneath his feet, he smiled. He was even getting used to the foul stench of this cell, and the humiliation of being unable to even drop his pants when he needed to relieve himself. His jailors were taken no chances with him, he concluded, turning his sore wrist - the one that wasn't made of stone - against its manacle.

The sound of footsteps brought him out of his idle thoughts. They approached the solid metal door of his cell. A key turned the heavy lock, and one of his guards pushed the door open.

The man who stood in full armor in the center of the doorway was new. With a gesture, the knight dismissed the two guards. Once they were gone, he closed the door behind him and pulled off his helm.

The face beneath the helm was almost completely unfamiliar. The brown hair and jaw line were the same, but he'd never seen the drawn cheeks, determined mouth, and hardened eyes before. Even so, he knew him; there was no other man with reason to be here, and the few familiar features confirmed it.

_Blast. I knew the plan was working too well for it to stay that way._

"It's dangerous for you to visit me like this," Nick said, giving no pretense that the man before him didn't already know what he was saying. "And I hardly need to be kept abreast of current developments. Trying to rescue me at this point would be even more dangerous, not to mention futile." He sighed. "So, I take it that something else has gone wrong. Well, what -"

Hindel seized him by the jaw, slamming his head back against the stone wall, and pressed a dagger against the side of his neck. The cold steel cut cruelly through his skin, drawing a painful trickle of blood. Nick stared with shock into Hindel's eyes, which blazed into his with a unyielding fury.

"King Warderer wants you alive until you can be sacrificed to Iom," he growled. "But I'm strongly tempted to kill you here and now, you filthy slime."

----------------------

"Hey!" Sarah called. "Look over there. It's Mayfair and her group."

Natasha's heart arose with a sudden burst of new life. _Alive. She's alive. And if her, maybe Deanna? Unless Sarah is mistaken... no, oh please, she can't be mistaken..._

The others were ahead of her, but her feet flew on the wings of hope. She quickly sprinted past them all, even Sarah, only vaguely aware that she had run over Luke in the process. She knew only that she had to see.

Her eyes unexpectedly met his, and she froze. The joy and relief that she felt at seeing him alive took her by surprise, swelled her heart to near bursting. She realized, now, that his friendship filled a hole in her that not even Dawn, Jane, and Vyra had been able to fill. With them, she felt the bonds of mutual support and caring. But only with him did she feel that her softer values, her sensitive nature and compassion, were validated.

"Hello, Deanna."

She wanted to say more, but she was still aware of the fact that they were not alone. So she looked to Sarah and Mayfair, to concentrate on what they were saying.

Out of the corner of her eye, however, she saw that Deanna was still staring at her, as though trying to make sure that she was in fact real, and not a ghost. A slight blush coming over her, she looked back to him and smiled.

----------------------

As one of the few nobles who Prince Nick trusted completely, Lady Sarah was not someone to be ignored. Yet as they talked, Mayfair could not resist casting a glance to see if Natasha was well. In that glance, she saw her not only well, but looking at Deanna with a smile and a blush lightening her features.

She could not hold back a happy tear from trickling down from her eye, running between cheek and nose. _Bless you, child. You've finally allowed yourself to live._

----------------------

The initial shock gone, it was hard for Nick to keep back a smile. Did Hindel really think that he would buy his bluff? If he died, so would Deanna - so far as Hindel knew, that is. Nonetheless, he managed a straight face.

Flinching slightly from the sharp kiss of the dagger, Nick said calmly, "It might help if you would tell me what this is all about."

"General Gordon arranged for the Sword of Hajya to be stolen from Castle Cypress. To recover it, a young contingent of your army made its way into Iom. I sent a trusted agent to watch over them."

"Yes; I anticipated all that."

"Then you should know damn well what this is about!" Hindel shouted into his face. "My agent just sent a report back to me, and you know who he spied in the Cypress army's ranks? Deanna!"

Nick's composure collapsed like the battered gates of a castle. He looked at Hindel in confusion. "What…"

"Is this your idea of protecting my brother!?" He shook him violently, making the dagger's blade rub viciously against his neck. "Is it!?"

He closed his eyes, regaining his cool. "Hindel, I didn't -"

"And such an honorable tactic of getting him to join your side," Hindel went on, toning his anger with sarcasm. "My agent says he was mooning over one of your sergeants, a pretty little mage with green eyes."

A sergeant... he knew of only one sergeant in the squads he'd left to guard Castle Cypress. "Natasha? You're talking about Natasha?" A short chuckle burst out of him. "If I were trying to seduce your brother into the Cypress army, don't you think I'd have given the task to someone a bit more comely?"

"Attractive women make Deanna nervous, and you damn well know it."

Nick returned his old acquaintance's rage with a smile. "Natasha's a nice kid. Your brother has excellent taste in women."

Muttering a curse, Hindel returned his dagger to its sheath and stepped away. "You think you're pretty damn clever, don't you, Nicholas? You couldn't trust me to serve your cause... could you? But you knew that if my brother were part of that cause, I'd _have_ to. If your army falls, Deanna dies with them. To save him, I have to save them." He looked to the floor, chuckling weakly. "Damn clever."

"That's not true. I believed your note."

"Then WHAT is my brother doing on the damn battlefield!?" Hindel snapped, his eyes searing with fury.

"I don't know -"

"Oh, that's rich. You're the King of Cypress, and a young man is recruited into your army against your will. That's absolutely rich." His face was red as a sunburn with passion. Perhaps realizing this, he turned away.

A knot tightened its hold in Nick's chest. It had been one thing to read the words in Hindel's letter saying that he loved Deanna; it was another thing entirely to see it. Doing his best to swallow the knot, Nick said, "Hindel... I do have a confession to make. I... might have not told anyone at Castle Cypress who Deanna is."

Hindel spun back around. "What?"

He took a deep breath. "Deanna had a fall at one of the nearby cliffs. He was brought in by two of my soldiers, and everyone assumed that he was a Cypressian."

"And you didn't think it might help them to know that whether or not an Iom general fights on the side of Cypress depends on his safety!? Dammit, Nicholas, is Deanna a joke to you? Am _I_ a joke to you?"

"I'm sorry, Hindel." He looked into his eyes with honest sympathy. "If I had told anyone about Deanna, it would have been General Mayfair, and I simply didn't want to give her anything more to worry about. I swear to you, on my father's grave, if I had the slightest notion that this could happen, I would have had them keep Deanna locked in the safest room of Castle Cypress."

Hindel stared back into his eyes. "You swear it?"

"As I have said."

"...All right. It could be you've changed in the ten years since we last met, but... I believe you." The Iom general sighed. "So what do we do now?"

----------------------

Setting up camp for what was now a party of 15 people was not a small task, and Mayfair placed Natasha in charge of it. Guiding everyone in the pitching of tents, gathering of firewood, and so forth was an onerous job, and she had been tempted to ask out of it. She still was pleased for the opportunity to prove herself to the others(and, ultimately, to Prince Nick), but her eagerness to talk with Deanna again soured that pleasure. There was no chance to say anything but brief orders to him.

When at last Natasha's duties were finished, and Mayfair, Randolf, Claude, and Lady Sarah were gathered around the main fire to make plans, she stole off to find Deanna.

Looking around the corner of a tent, she spotted him: not alone, as she'd expected, but standing with Eric, Jaha, and Luke, occasionally contributing to their conversation with monosyllables. She wondered what he was thinking. Obviously he didn't approve of their mischief, but he might like the opportunity to make new friends.

As if he had an extraordinarily acute sense of hearing, Deanna suddenly turned his head and looked directly at her. For a moment, her breath caught. Then, without a word to the others, Deanna began walking to her.

"Hey," Luke said, "...where's he going?"

Eric shrugged. "He's done his duty. He can go where he likes."

She and Deanna went around the other side of the tent, out of sight. She immediately threw her arms around him, pressing the side of her face against his chest.

"Thank the gods you're safe," she whispered. "I was so worried about you."

Deanna brought a hesitant hand around her back, and gently held her. "I... I had to stay alive... for you. I had to make sure... you were safe."

She looked up at him and smiled. "You're turning into quite the charmer. First that apology at Portabello, and now..."

"No! I... I meant what I said," he said firmly. "Exactly what I said."

Startled, she broke away from him, and took a step back. "Deanna, don't... don't talk like that."

"What's wrong?" His face was lost and confused.

"I'm sorry... It's just that..." She looked to the ground. "...it feels wrong for someone to offer that kind of devotion... to me."

"Why?" he demanded, with a trace of anger in his voice - though not anger at her. "You're a good person."

"Well, yes, I mean, I guess I am, but..." Natasha flushed. "I just can't deal with the idea of someone giving so much for me."

"But Prince Nick... Don't you want him to be... devoted to you?"

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Do you know what I want from Prince Nick?" She sighed. "I want him to tell me that I've done more for Cypress than anyone else. Then I want him to sweep me up in his arms, carry me to the altar, and we'll live happily ever after. I never wanted him to fall in love with me; I wanted him to fall in love with the things I do for him. For him to love me for all the sacrifices I've made for him. What... what you're implying is... is that..." She took a swallow, clasping a hand at her collar. "...is that you love me for me."

A chill silence passed. "I'm sorry," Deanna said.

"Don't be. It's not your fault; it's me." Her head fell. She felt horrible; Deanna had made a beautiful avowal of friendship, and this was how she responded. There was a sinking sense within her that she'd burned a bridge.

She was suddenly aware of Deanna standing near her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. "You're crying..."

She frowned. "No, I'm not." But then she tasted a salty tear run into her mouth.

Tears were running down Deanna's face too, but even so his visage gave her comfort. _How strange_, she thought. Was this the same boy who she had honestly told her friends that she pitied? This brave, strong, breathtakingly handsome young man who could always make her feel better about herself? Though his haircut still hid his good looks, the memory of her glimpse of his whole face still lingered, and when she looked to his face she could see two eyes looking back.

_Oh gods. Am I really falling in love with him?_

_No; it can't be. As wonderful as Deanna is, Prince Nick is better than him in every way. I'm just missing Prince Nick, that's all. I won't treat Deanna like a cheap substitute for him._

She turned her mind off the subject. "I learned Freeze level 2 while you were gone."

He nodded. "You're... a fast learner."

"Have you been looking at Spark?"

"Yes, I... I think I'm getting the hang of it."

She reached a hand up to his exposed eye and gently wiped away a couple tears. "I think we're going to get through this war, Deanna. I really do."

----------------------

"Who's commanding the Cypress army?" Nick asked.

"General Mayfair."

He nodded. "Then Deanna is in the best of hands. Have your agents continue to aid them, and they should be fine. They _are_ headed this way, correct?"

"Yes. And odds are they'll right into the same trap that you did. I'm not privy to General Solo's plans, so I couldn't pass that information along to them."

"Don't worry. My four most trusted men escaped the ambush; at least one of them is sure to find Mayfair's force and warn them."

Hindel gave him a significant look. "Forgive me, but coming from you, none of this inspires much confidence. You've seen better days."

"What, this? Some iron manacles, a soiled pair of pants, a few cuts, and an arm turned to stone... it's nothing." Nick laughed. "I could outmaneuver Warderer with both legs broken. You have nothing to worry about."

"...I'm sorry about the cut that I gave you."

"Nonsense. You needed an excuse for paying me a visit; now it looks as if you were interrogating me. I would have asked you to do it anyway."

Hindel began pacing around the cell. "There's another problem. Warderer's occupied with a few projects relating to Iom's revival right now, but once he's done with that he'll be coming straight here to bring you to the shrine."

"That's still enough delay for my plan to work. Almost too much delay, in fact; you may need to deploy your own forces in order to prevent General Mayfair from rescuing me too early. Speaking of Iom's shrine, though, do you have any idea of what I need to do to restore this arm once I get there?"

"Yes, of course. No one who comes to a shrine built to Iom - freely or otherwise - can remain under his curse. Your arm should return to normal as soon as you enter." He hesitated. "Nick... if my treachery is discovered, I'll be killed. If that happens..."

"You won't be killed, Hindel," Nick said firmly. "I promise you that." _What about Deanna, though? When I conceived my plan, everyone in the force that would be coming to my rescue was expendable... except for Mayfair, of course. They've all sworn their lives to Cypress. But now Deanna's joined them. If he dies, Hindel will be crushed, and I'll have broken my bargain._

_Blast it! Why do I care? Deanna and Hindel would have meant nothing to my father. Just two more pawns in the game. Why do I want to be fair to them now?_

"But _if_," Hindel insisted. "If I am killed, I may not see Deanna again. I want you to tell him... tell him that I didn't mean any of the things I said when we last spoke. I was just upset."

Nick nodded. "Yes, if. But I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunity to tell him yourself when the two of you move in to Castle Cypress."

----------------------

Deanna stared deep into the fire. There was a hypnotic strangeness to it this night, one of the last he would spend with the Cypressians. He was barely even aware of Slade offering him a piece of the meat he'd been cooking. The fire's flickering form seemed to offer dark schemes and sinister bargains, a darkness within its shine.

Now that he was back with Natasha, he could consider how soon he would lose her friendship. Hindel was probably at Algam Fort now; it was Iom's chief military hub. He'd have to get him to ally with the Cypressians, and once that was done they'd know he was an Iomite. The Cypressians would forgive Hindel his nationality, but Deanna had deceived them. They would not forgive that. He could imagine Natasha's revulsion at having embraced a countryman of the people who had killed her family.

And without Natasha to fight for, he'd again be as he was before: cowardly, weak, and alone.

He could still hear her sweet voice speaking to him, and the words that were sweeter still; could still feel her warmth, and the gentle touch of her hand wiping away his tears. Was he really to give all that up… forever?

NO, he realized immediately. The prospect was unbearable, and in a twinkling he saw a way to avoid it. Perhaps it was what he'd planned to do all along.

Once they were in reach of Hindel, and he was assigned his watch - tomorrow night, most likely - he would sneak away to speak to his brother. Not to convince him to join Cypress's cause, but to spring a trap on the Cypress army while they slept. Their journey would be ended.

Hindel's influence was strong; he could convince Warderer to keep the Cypressians alive. Deanna would be kept in a cell with them, so that they would be none the wiser of his role in their defeat. With their army beaten and their ruler captured, Cypress would quickly fall, and this terrible war would end. Their cause being lost, Warderer would see no reason to not release Natasha and the others. She would never learn of his true nationality... and would continue to be his friend.

It was not an easy plan to contemplate, and perhaps that was why he hadn't considered it before. It meant the destruction of Cypress, a land that he had come to love, in a way as much as his own. Mayfair, the woman who had been so kind to him and taught him so much, would almost certainly be executed. She was too high-ranking a leader for Warderer to let live. And Prince Nick would of course be sacrificed. Without having ever met the man, Deanna had acquired a deep respect and even awe for him from the Cypressians. Besides, any man who could win the love of a woman like Natasha was a great man indeed.

And yet, terrible as all those losses were, were they as unbearable as the thought of never seeing Natasha again? And were they not alleviated by the knowledge that he would have saved his homeland?

"You're shaking, Deanna." Slade tipped his head at him. "Are you cold?"

Deanna shook his head. _I'll do it,_ he thought to himself. _It may be the worst thing I've ever done… but Mayfair forgive me, I can't stand the thought of losing Natasha. I can't._

He again looked into the fire. What he saw there made him recoil, pushing away from the flickering flames with his legs.

Slade stared at him. "Well now, what's the matter? Deanna?" He hopped up to aid him. But Deanna made no response, only continued to watch the flames, his heart pounding.

It was hard to tell, but he thought he could see the face of Iom smiling at him from the heart of the flames.


	16. Chapter 16: Fire of Love

- Chapter 16: Fire of Love -

Deanna was carrying Natasha in his arms.

He wasn't sure why, exactly, but he had a feeling that she couldn't walk well. Her face shone on him with quiet appreciation for his effort.

It was an effort to think of anything but her, even for a moment, but he noticed that they were in some sort of tower. Where, he didn't know. He only knew that he had to take Natasha to the top. It was the safest place for her.

He reached the stairwell and began climbing the steps, one at a time. His strength was more than up to the task of bearing Natasha's weight, and the climb was not strenuous. As they ascended, he told her about Hindel. She'd asked him to, pointing out that she had told him all about her family. It was only fair that he tell her about his.

At length, Natasha asked, "Where are we going, Deanna?"

"You'll see."

Up and up they went. So many stairs.

"Where's Mayfair?"

She was up to many important things, and Deanna explained them all to her. Natasha nodded to each thing he said with innocent trust.

At last they reached the top. There was a small landing there, and a room with a heavy iron door. Deanna carefully opened the door with one hand and walked in. The room was small, dimly lit, with solid windows. Natasha frowned. "Deanna, what is this place?"

"This is our new home." He laid her down on the bed.

She protested, "Deanna, I don't like it here. I want to go."

He shook his head. "This is where we have to stay, now. Forever."

He went back out and closed the iron door, locking it. She pounded on it frantically, shouting, "Let me out!"

"No, no, no," he repeated, his breath heavy. He leaned back against the door, though it was more than strong enough to keep her. "It's dangerous out there. We have to stay here, where it's safe."

"DEANNA!" She was crying now. "Please, please let me go..."

----------------------

Deanna sat up with a jolt.

"N-n-nightmare." His heart was pounding like it was trying to catch up. He wiped a hand over his forehead; it came back soaked with sweat.

He looked around. The first soft glow of sunlight was sifting in, and everyone in his side of the camp was still asleep except for Graham, who was on watch.

Resting his arms on his knees, he sat for half a minute in thought. So long as he had nothing to do, he wanted to do something for Natasha. There was still the magic book in his pack, and he was near to understanding Spark. However, he wanted to do something she hadn't asked him to do.

An idea came to him. He slipped on his tunic and stealthily crept out of the camp; he had no more wish to exchange words with Graham than with anyone else.

----------------------

"...and then the dark lady, Frabell, threw her spear at Cray's throat," Randolf continued. "It was a perfect throw, and I thought he was finished. But Prince Nick leapt forward and deflected the spear with his blade. Frabell then brandished a halberd, and he engaged her in single combat in order to keep her away from the two mages. I would have called it foolhardy if the young prince hadn't acquitted himself so well."

"He beat her single-handedly?" Natasha asked, listening intently to Randolf's account as they walked along. Dawn walked on her other side, emitting an unhappy sigh every now and then.

"No, he delayed her until a contingent of our force got it together and struck Frabell down. It was difficult, having to battle both Bazoo and Frabell at once." He turned to look down at Natasha for a minute. "I said he acquitted himself well because I doubt any of us besides him could have held our own against a warrior like Frabell for that long. Well, except Gyan, of course. And Ruce, perhaps."

"Oh, don't be so modest, Sir Randolf," Dawn spoke up at last. "We've seen you in battle. I'll bet a knight like you could have defeated her all by yourself, if only His Majesty had let you have a share of the glory."

Randolf flushed. "Well, I, uh... I was drawing Bazoo's fire at the time. Only His Majesty was close enough to stop her. And I think you overrate my skills... or maybe you underestimate the worshippers of Iom?" He gave Dawn a confused glance.

"Um. Sir Randolf," Natasha interrupted, shuffling her feet in the rough earth. "General Mayfair and Lady Sarah are still making plans for our attack. Don't you think they could use some of your experience as a warrior?"

"Yes... Yes, how thoughtless of me." He gave a quick bow. "I've enjoyed the pleasure of your company, ladies. Excuse me." He turned and trotted off.

Mere seconds after they'd resumed walking, Natasha turned a sharp glare on Dawn. "Nice. You know, you could've at least tried to be civil to him. He's only been a royal knight of Cypress since... well, probably since before you were born."

"I'm sorry," Dawn answered. "I just needed to get him to stop talking about how heroic Prince Nicholas is. If I could have found a more tactful way, I would have used it."

"What's wrong with him talking about his adventures with Prince Nick? They're great stories. And you can't say he was embellishing them at all."

"No, I can't. Straightest delivery I've ever heard."

"Besides, _I asked _him to tell me about Prince Nick's adventures. No one said you had to tag along. And what have you got against Prince Nick, anyway?"

"Nothing!" Dawn protested. "I love hearing about the great deeds our King has done to keep Cypress safe! It's not me; it's you. You've been finally breaking out of your ridiculous crush on His Majesty... these stories are just going to pull you back into that trap."

Natasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath to hold back her gut reaction. "Dawn... I appreciate your concern. But you're not my mother. You can't -"

"Shhhh!"

Natasha's eyes flashed open; her breath tensed. "What? What?"

Dawn pointed. "Deanna's coming."

"Don't do that!" she pealed, releasing her breath in a laugh. "I thought you'd spotted Iom troops."

"I'll make myself scarce," Dawn said, without amusement. "I've noticed he doesn't like to talk too much when anyone but you is around."

As Dawn trotted off, Natasha skipped across the tall grasses to meet Deanna. Curiously, he was holding something behind his back. She hoped she could quickly heal the wound she'd created between them the evening before. "Good morning!"

"Good morning," he said, smiling in his awkward way. "I, uh, thought you might like these." From behind his back he produced a sunburst of startlingly unique flowers. The petals curved and puckered into shapes she'd never seen, displaying a rainbow of truly exotic colors. He handed them to her.

"Deanna, they're beautiful!" she said, gratefully accepting his gift. "Where did you find them?"

"Ah... around. I guess the flowers in Iom are really different from the ones in Cypress."

Caressing the petal of a soft blue flower with one finger, she said, "Thank you."

He fidgeted. "You're... welcome. I'm glad you like them." He abruptly turned away. "I've got to get going. Mayfair said she needed to speak to me today."

"Deanna, wait! Deanna?"

But he kept on going. Natasha sighed. _Always so strange._

She could hear Dawn's heavy steps approach her from behind. "Well, go ahead," Dawn said drily. "Tell me again how he isn't nuts about you."

"Dawn, you don't know that for sure," Natasha said, continuing to admire the flowers in her hand. "And it's not fair to Deanna to assume."

"Oh, come _on_! He just gave you flowers; that's the universal gesture of a young man in love towards his lady!"

"Maybe in our narrow, predictable world it is," she said distantly. "Deanna's different."

She took a deep breath of the flowers. Their scent was strange and foreign, but pleasing all the same.

----------------------

Before they marched on to the Algam fields, Mayfair took Natasha aside to speak with her. "You probably already know, but Deanna was leading our group while we were separated from you."

Blinking in astonishment, Natasha said, "No. He never told me that."

Mayfair clicked her tongue. "Deanna and his modesty. Well, he did a very fine job of it, as well. I think he may have some actual potential as a leader. But he still needs experience." She looked Natasha directly in the eyes. "I've talked with him, and we both agreed it would be a good idea if he took a turn as co-leader of the force with you. He'd give the orders in general, but you'd be there to step in if he goes wrong. Could you work with that?"

"Co-leaders? Won't that just lead to arguing?"

Mayfair smiled. "You can imagine Deanna arguing with someone?"

"Well..." She rubbed at the sleeve of her robe. This was just what she wanted: no more having to bear the responsibility of leading the group. In spite of all her successes, she still hated the ever-present possibility of failure, of someone dying because of her mistakes. But it felt wrong to quit now, just when they were in the heart of Iom and the going was sure to get tougher than ever. "...Are you sure Deanna is ready for this?"

"Almost as sure as I was of you. Off the battlefield, he's... made a mistake or two... but he accepts responsibility for his mistakes. That's a very good sign."

"I guess... I guess if you're sure of it, there's not much room for doubt, is there?" She allowed her relieved smile to show on her face. "Thank you. ...I'll be sure to thank Deanna, too."

"You're welcome." She bent to kiss Natasha on the brow. "Just don't get too comfortable with it. His Majesty isn't going to let a born leader like you divide her talents."

----------------------

"Randolf," Deanna said, his voice calmer than Natasha had ever heard it before, "...lead off a group to the east, through the pass. Natasha, Slade, Jaha, Graham, Eric, and Luke, go with him. Randolf, Eric, and Graham - you should strike first, and strike fast, before the enemy is ready. Try to herd them together so Natasha can take them out. Jaha, Luke, make sure that you protect Natasha and Slade. The rest of you come with me; we'll take the path along the stream."

"So that we'll come at the commanders from both sides?" Natasha queried.

Deanna gave her a short nod, then moved off with his group.

As Natasha broke into an easygoing but steady run to keep up with the swift-moving centaurs, Luke gave a whistle. "Sounds like he's been taking lessons from you. Didn't expect that to come from him."

"Yes, he _is_ different when in battle," Slade remarked. "It's as though he forgets himself."

Natasha didn't know what to say to that. All she could make of Deanna's extraordinary evolution since arriving at Castle Cypress was that Mayfair had even more of a way with people than she'd thought. She focused instead of the two worms that Randolf and Eric were skirmishing with. "Jaha," she said, "that one's about to break from Eric to attack Graham; head him off!"

"On those stumpy legs?" Luke snorted. "He needs a boost." He grabbed hold of the scruff of Jaha's neck, hefted him up, and pitched him at the worm.

"Luke, you jerrrrrrrkkk!!!" Jaha slapped into the face of the worm, which promptly opened its maw to devour him. With a yelp, he stretched out his arms and legs against the creature's jaws, propping its mouth open. It roared in anger against Jaha's splayed body. "Ugh… that breath!"

"Slade, help him!" Natasha said, as she hurried to give Randolf support.

"How? If I hit that beast, I'll shake off Jaha's grip. He'll be swallowed."

"You have that staff; hold its mouth open!" she called back to him without taking her eyes off of Randolf's opponent. As it reared up to strike, she cast Blaze level 1 on it. Randolf thrust his lance into the worm's weakened body, finishing it.

"My thanks, dear lady," Randolf said to her with a modest bow. Natasha turned to see that Slade had followed her advice and propped open the other worm's jaw with his staff. Immediately seeing his chance, Jaha picked up his axe and tore through the worm's head from the inside.

"Natasha!" It was Deanna calling. "Graham should avoid the forest area! So that he can pick off the fliers there."

She nodded, making sure that he could see it. Her faith in Mayfair's judgment increased; Deanna was thinking of things that she wouldn't have.

Once her team entered the forest area, however, she was left to direct them on her own. This didn't bother her much; she had become accustomed to leading the group, and dense terrain was hardly unfamiliar to her. She cued Luke to warn them of any suspicious noises that his alert ears could pick up, and Randolf and Slade to scout ahead. Randolf's heavy armor and vast experience made him difficult to injure, and Slade could heal him if he was ambushed. They made it through the woods without trouble.

On entering the clearing, Natasha saw that Deanna's group had made it ahead of them. Most of them were fending off the Iom commanders and their few remaining foot soldiers, but Deanna himself was reeling from a Freeze spell cast by an enemy mage in the garb of a sorcerer. In spite of the merciless cold, however, he stood his ground, and she instantly saw why. Chester was sitting behind him, crippled by an arrow through the leg. Deanna was his only shield against the sorcerer's magic.

This sight seemed to freeze all existence for one brief moment. With a deep tremble that pulsed through her heart, she _knew_.

She finally knew.

"Luke, Jaha," she ordered quickly, "...try to make those guys some breathing room. Randolf, Eric, attack that ghoul that seems to be directing them. Slade, Graham, hang back; jump in only where you're needed."

As she ran to give Deanna and Chester a hand, she berated herself for the foolish mistake she had made. Deanna wasn't a cheap substitute for Prince Nick. Because Prince Nick was the epitome of everything she wanted in a man - strength, courage, handsomeness, and the will to defend the helpless - she had believed she could love only him. But she understood now that it didn't matter that Deanna didn't measure up to Prince Nick in those things, only that he had those things at all. And he had something her sovereign didn't have: a genuine interest and fondness for who she was and the things she believed in.

Prince Nick could make her heart pound, but only Deanna could make her spirit soar. She knew now that she loved Deanna, and that she no longer minded that he wanted to be devoted to her. All she wanted was to be with him, to open up to him every piece of her existence.

As she came within range, Natasha reached out a hand and shouted, "Blaze!" Her flames broke the path of the Freeze spell. She saw with satisfaction that she had also cast them close enough that they warmed Deanna, partially dispelling the Freeze spell's effects. It always felt so good to use Blaze to bring life-giving warmth to people, instead of searing death.

The sorcerer turned to her and shouted, "Freeze!" A level 2 spell came at her. She quickly countered with Blaze, and watched as the two elements struggled in the space between them. Cold extinguished her flames; fire vanquished his frost.

It soon occurred to her that she couldn't defeat the sorcerer this way; his magical resources would outlast hers. If she held out long enough, another member of the force might help her, but she wanted to beat the sorcerer on her own. The blood pounding from her heart, fresh with the revelation of her feelings for Deanna, seemed to tell her that she was fighting now for his love.

Thinking furiously, she suddenly realized the major advantage that Blaze has over Freeze. Unlike ice, fire is capable of self-perpetuation. The only question was how to use that advantage, and that was simple enough. Behind the sorcerer was another small patch of forest. Feigning a temporary loss of aim, she set a single tree on fire.

In a matter of moments, the fire had spread to most of surrounding trees. Steeling her courage, Natasha broke away from the duel and ran into the burning woods.

The smoke burned her eyes and mouth, forcing her to cough, but she knew it served as her cover. The sorcerer's Freeze spells would have to break through several waves of heat to reach her now, and that was assuming that he could spot her through the smoke. Her eyes had adjusted somewhat to smoke since she'd begun using Blaze, so she could watch the sorcerer uncertainly cast spells here and there, waiting for him to turn as much of his back towards her as possible.

As soon as he did, she moved towards him and sacrificed all of her remaining energy for a casting of Blaze level 3. The spell hit dead center, and the mage died in a fiery blaze. Lest she too die from suffocation, Natasha leapt out from the inferno of the trees. She looked for potential attackers, but the enemy had been entirely vanquished.

Spotting Deanna, she ran to him eagerly. "Deanna," she gasped, still short of breath from the smoke. "Are you all right?"

"I... I'm fine." He turned his face from her. He seemed almost... ashamed.

Natasha's eyes widened with concern. "Deanna, what's wrong?"

"...I didn't deserve that."

"Didn't deserve what?"

"For you to... help me."

She frowned. "Deanna, what are you talking about?"

He shook his head quickly. "We should get going. Algam Fort..."

Deanna turned and walked away.


	17. Chapter 17: Moment of Truth

- Chapter 17: Moment of Truth -

Natasha didn't think much of Deanna's morose attitude at first. It was hardly the first time he'd acted strange, after all, and she was sure he'd be looking hopeful again after they conquered Algam Fort.

Instead, he only got worse. Where before he had tended to follow her around sometimes, now he seemed to be doing his best to avoid everyone. Disturbed by his new solitariness, she approached him as the group stopped for a brief rest.

"Deanna, are you all right?" she said anxiously. "You look preoccupied with something. Are you worried about the Prince?"

He said nothing. He didn't even bother to look at her.

Hurt, she retreated to Mayfair, who was standing nearby. "What am I doing wrong?"

Mayfair smiled fondly at her. "What makes you think you're doing something wrong, child?"

"He was more lively than this when we found him lying at the cliffs. Why can't I break through to him?" In spite of herself, her voice began to choke. "I... I know I haven't been very sensitive to his feelings, before, but..."

"What do you mean? I think you've been a very good friend to him."

She shook her head sadly. "No, I haven't. He's been so good for me these past weeks... that I just... when I've been with him, I've only thought of myself." It was so clear now. What Deanna's father had done to him must have made it so hard for him to reach out to people, and when he'd made her one of the few he reached out to... she'd pushed him away. Just because she felt she couldn't "deal with the idea."

How much emotional effort it must have cost him to gather those precious flowers for her. And had she responded? No. How vain she'd been! No wonder he was ignoring her. She'd been planning to tell Deanna that she loved him as soon as she got a chance, but now...

"You're being too hard on yourself," Mayfair interrupted her thoughts, gently running her fingers through Natasha's hair. "Believe me, you've been as good for Deanna as he has been for you. Whatever it is he's going through right now, I'm certain it has nothing to do with you. You just need to give him some time."

"If I hadn't been so selfish... he'd share whatever it is he's going through with me," Natasha said. "He won't talk to me, because he knows I'd only dump my own problems on him."

"That's not true," Mayfair said firmly. "He cares about you, Natasha. You sharing your problems is a joy for him." She smiled. "Men aren't reasonable creatures, Natasha. They think they have to deal with all their problems by themselves."

She took her fingers from Natasha's hair and planted a kiss on her brow. "And when they realize that they can't, it's best that a woman is there to comfort them. I hope that you'll be that woman for him."

"Thanks, Mayfair," Natasha said with a feeble smile. "I'll try."

----------------------

What was bothering him, Deanna couldn't tell.

He knew it had something to do with General Solo's last moments. Though he hadn't helped kill him directly, he still felt guilty over slaying a general of Iom when he was secretly working on Iom's side. And he remembered Hindel saying that Solo was the only one of his fellow generals that he had any respect for.

But it wasn't killing Solo that was really bothering him. Before he died, Solo had looked into Deanna's face with recognition and said, "You're the traitor..." It had taken Deanna a few moments to make the connection, but it could only mean that Hindel, his brother, had secretly betrayed Iom because he thought that he had switched sides. It was the only thing his face could have meant to Solo.

The thought of Hindel's treason kept running through his mind... but why, he couldn't say. Certainly he thought no less of Hindel for having betrayed Iom. For a time, he'd done the same, and he felt ashamed for having changed his mind. He wasn't worried that it would affect his plan, either; all he had to do was explain to Hindel what had happened. Since Hindel's treason apparently hadn't been discovered yet, there was nothing to stop him from turning the Cypress force over to King Warderer. He did feel a bit guilty that Hindel had taken such an incredible risk for his sake, but Hindel had already made so many sacrifices because of his failures and mistakes, one more hardly seemed to make a difference. Something was nagging him, but what?

Deanna blinked, and abruptly realized that he was standing in an unfamiliar village, in front of a large thatched house. A quick look around showed that, aside from Mayfair and the old man standing in the doorway of the house, he was alone.

"Deanna? Have you been listening?" Mayfair said. She was facing the old man, but she glanced at Deanna with mild concern.

He shook his head in response to her question, and she immediately explained, "We need some rest, so we're going to spend the day in this village. Gyan assures us that we can reach the shrine of Iom in just a day or two." She gestured to the house. "They could only fit a few of us at the inn, so we've appropriated rooms at houses which have space to spare. The people here should keep you fed as well, if they want to avoid trouble."

"Damn Cypressians," the old man muttered loudly.

"You seemed a bit out of it, so we assigned you one of the later watches. There's just a few hours left before sunset now, so try to get some sleep. One of us will wake you when it's time for your watch." She turned and pointed to a distant spot. "If you need anything, go to the inn; Sarah's there. It's just a few minutes walk in that direction." She paused. "Do you understand all that? You've had this blank stare on your face."

He nodded. "I understand."

"One other thing." She looked him directly in the eye, and he noticed that the feel of her gaze had changed. "Natasha's worried about you. You haven't been talking to her, and... she's afraid she's done something to hurt your feelings."

Deanna furrowed his brow. "What...? She's never been anything but kind to me."

"I know. Except for that tussle while you were still bedridden, that is." She smiled a moment, and then her look became serious again. "I hate to meddle, but I think you should tell her what's bothering you. If you don't let her help, it could create a distance between you two."

He couldn't let Natasha help him - that would mean telling her who he really was. But there was no telling Mayfair that, of course. "Yes, I'll... talk to her."

"I hope I'm not making this awkward for you," she said apologetically. "It's just... My heart's greatest wish is that we'll rescue our King from Iom and restore peace to Cypress. Its second greatest wish is to see you and Natasha happy."

Deanna blushed. "Th...thank you."

Mayfair shook her head and took his hand in both of hers. "Thank _you_, Deanna. This has been a difficult ordeal, for all of us. And when the Iom army divided us, when things seemed their blackest... you showed us strength. You gave me hope." She gave his hand a good squeeze before releasing it. "You're a very special person, Deanna, and not only as a soldier. I'm glad that fate gave me the chance to know you."

He couldn't look at her. She was so full of life, of love. Was he really going to condemn this woman to death in a few short hours?

They bid each other a short "good night", and the old man showed Deanna in to his bed. "You'll get your dues, Cypressian," he said as he left him. "Iom is our defender. Tomorrow, he'll feast on your bones."

Deanna shivered. Most of them would not have that fate, but Prince Nicholas would. All that remained now was for him to find Hindel when his turn at watch came.

He was moving to snuff out the candle that lit the room when a tall bright-haired woman entered. She was not quite elderly like his host, but close to it. "I beg your pardon for intruding," she said quickly. "I just wanted to apologize for my brother. He's a good man, but stubborn."

His eyes went up to her inquisitively. "Aren't you angry at us, too? We're invading your country..."

She quietly offered him a piece of cooked meat. Deanna recognized it as leuri, an animal he hadn't eaten since he left Iom. Thanking her, he took it and bit in eagerly. Nodding her head, she spoke, "King Warderer took away my husband and all three of my sons to fight in his wanton war. That's why my brother had to take me in. If you Cypressians are here to overthrow that madman, then my heart is with you. Better to live under Cypress rule than under Warderer's selfish whims."

Deanna quickly finished his leuri, and the woman took it away, closing the door behind her. The bed was the most comfortable he'd been in since leaving Castle Cypress, and he slipped his exhausted body under the sheets with immense gratitude.

----------------------

Deanna was standing in the middle of some strange, barren, featureless land... a desert? It was like no place he'd seen outside of books. But the sight that almost immediately greeted his eyes made his location irrelevant.

A hundred meters or so away, a stranger had a tight grip on Natasha's arm and was pulling her along with him, moving away from Deanna. Natasha struggled very little against the stranger, and he noticed that her wrists were bound behind her back with chains.

Without an instant's hesitation, he ran after them. "You! Stop!" he called out. "Let her go!"

The stranger ignored him. Deanna redoubled his efforts, sprinting across the land as though Iom himself powered his legs. In seconds he was able to reach out and grab the stranger's shoulder.

As soon as he did so, the man spun around and hit him with a punch that sent him sprawling onto the dirt. Before he could rise to his feet, the stranger drew a sword and leveled it at his chest. "Leave us. Don't you understand?" the stranger said. "This is the way it has to be."

Only he wasn't a stranger. Deanna recognized the face: it was his own. A complete copy of himself, right down to the body proportions and clothing. There was only one difference. He couldn't be sure, never having spent much time looking into a mirror, but it seemed that the other Deanna was a more slouched than he had been for some time.

It didn't matter. Even if it was just a dream, he had to help Natasha. As swift as a cobra, he kicked at the forearm of the pseudo-Deanna, knocking the point of the sword away from him. No longer pinned, he rolled to his feet, drawing his own sword just in time to deflect a deadly blow. Their swords clashed thrice more as he blocked off his duplicate's attacks and turned them into his own offensive.

"You can't stop me from freeing Natasha," he said, forcing his duplicate farther and farther back. "This is my dream. I decide how this fight goes!"

No soon had he said this than pseudo-Deanna made an underhanded slash that cut into his leg all the way to the bone. He fell on one knee with a cry of pain, and was barely able to lift his sword in time to stop an overhead strike from cleaving his head in two.

"No, Deanna," his opponent said, pushing his blade closer to Deanna's head in spite of his struggles. "This isn't your dream. It's ours!"

A cold chill went through him as he realized this was the truth. His double wasn't just a nightmare doppelganger; he was as much the real Deanna as himself. Which meant... that part of him wanted to imprison Natasha?

_I won't let that happen!_

The wound to his leg should have crippled him, but this was a dream. Deanna's pushed back his opponent's blade, leaping onto his feet and returning to the attack. For Natasha's sake... he had to win!

"You can't do this to Natasha!" he cried at his double. "She's given us kindness... strength... forgiveness! In spite of our weakness, in spite of our cowardice, in spite of our evil. She did it out of the goodness of her heart. And not just us... she reaches her gentle touch out to everyone. She even spoke against Dawn for not respecting the Iom soldiers, her enemies! You can't lock away such a beautiful person!"

"Yes!" the other Deanna shouted. He parried away Deanna's best thrust and dealt a piercing move at his belly that he just barely dodged. "Yes, she is beautiful! The most beautiful woman we've known, or will ever know. Nothing can compare with her gentle touch. Can't you still remember her soft fingers brushing away your tears? Every kind word she's spoken is engraved in my memory. And if I let her go, we'll never see her again!"

Deanna tried a desperate maneuver with his sword. The other Deanna diverted its momentum, disarming him. His blade then tore a deep gash across Deanna's chest, knocking him to the ground. The victorious Deanna raised his sword for the killing blow.

Deanna lowered his eyes in shame. Again he'd failed someone who cared for him. "I'm sorry, Natasha," he said softly.

"You couldn't win," the other Deanna said without mockery. "I had too much to fight for. Natasha is the blood that flows through my heart, the sun that shines on my soul. I LOVE HER!"

When he heard himself say those three words, Deanna's eyes blazed with fury. He thrust his arm in a mystic gesture. Lightning seared through the air, igniting the body of the other Deanna like a living artifact of the Ancients. In a flash, Deanna was back on his feet and had recovered his sword.

"NO, YOU DON'T!!!" he cried, moving in for the kill while his opponent was still jerking erratically from the effects of Spark. Smoke rose from his scorched body, but in desperation he managed to raise his sword to stop Deanna's killing thrust.

"You don't even know what love means!" Deanna went on, slashing mercilessly at his opponent with every sentence of righteous anger. "After all the times we've disappointed Hindel, let him down, shamed him, he still betrayed his king and country to save us. That's love!

"But you... After all Natasha's done for us, you'd keep her in chains just to satisfy our hopeless infatuation! You don't love her! Love is strength, not weakness. A spineless weakling like you can't love anything! If you really loved her, you'd let her go no matter how much it hurts."

"I'm lost without her!" the other Deanna screamed, and followed up a clever feint with a stroke intended to remove Deanna's head.

Deanna parried the stroke and retorted, "Then you're lost even with her! Natasha gave us strength and courage. But it means nothing if we can't use that gift on our own. If that's the way it is, we've thrown her gift away!"

"I'll be good to her..."

"You can't! You'd be taking her away from everyone who loves her, with no love of your own to give." The other Deanna opened his mouth to say something more, but he bellowed, "And don't you DARE say you love her again! You self-centered scum!" With one powerful stroke, he severed the other Deanna's sword arm from his body.

"Please..." his helpless foe pleaded.

"You pathetic failure!" he cried, and drove his sword through the other Deanna's heart. "Die!"

His eyes rolled back into his head, lifeless. Breathing heavily, Deanna let go of his sword and said firmly, "I won't let anyone hurt Natasha. Least of all myself." His rage was nearly spent, though inside he still seethed at the thought of him calling what he felt for Natasha "love".

"Deanna!"

He looked up to see Natasha running towards him, wrists still in chains, but her face beaming with joy. She ran to his arms, crying, "Oh, Deanna... you saved me."

"You're free now, Natasha," he said, voice suffused with joy at seeing her alright. With a touch of his fingers, her chains fell away. He moved his hands to her back, and wings as beautiful as stardust burst forth. "You can go on your way."

"Thank you, Deanna." Lightly touching his cheek in farewell, she said fervently, "I'll never forget you."

"I won't forget you, either," he answered. "Without you, I'd have never had the strength to defeat myself. You've given me the power to live, to fight, to love."

Putting his arms around her waist, he gave her a light boost, and she floated into the sky on her new wings. Though he knew he would never see her again, Deanna was filled with a joy greater than he had ever known.

----------------------

He was gently brought back to consciousness by the sound of Natasha's voice. "Deanna? Time to wake up."

Deanna blinked his eyes and raised himself up by planting his wrists behind his waist and pushing. The room was soothingly dim, lit only by the candle Natasha carried in her left hand. Its light cast a soft glow over her smooth white skin, her gentle caring eyes. She was more beautiful than ever.

And her beauty did not make him feel ashamed of himself any more. He realized that he'd made his decision, somehow, in his sleep. He was not going to betray the Cypress army to Iom; he was going to see this through with them to the end.

The air in the room seemed thick with possibility. His love for Natasha was finally complete, no longer a half-hearted devotion. He wanted to tell her the truth about himself now; she deserved to know. But the revelation might create tension in the group, and that could cost them the victory. He'd just have to let her find out on her own.

"Um. It's time for your watch," Natasha said. His blankets had slipped down when he sat up, and Natasha was staring at his bare chest with a certain amount of confusion. She grabbed his tunic from where he'd dropped it on the floor and handed it to him.

"Thanks," he said, and pulled it on. How lucky it was that his watch followed Natasha's on this night, the last he would spend with the Cypressians. _No_, he thought to himself, _not lucky. This is entirely too kind a stroke of fate to be just luck._ He offered a silent prayer of thanks to Iom.

"Are you awake yet?" Natasha asked. "You seem a bit dazed."

Deanna nodded. "I was just having the most wonderful dream." He looked at her, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember. "I think you were in it."

For some reason, this made Natasha blush fiercely. As he kicked the bed covers away and got out of the bed, she handed him the candle without a word.

"Where are you sleeping?" he asked.

"Just a five minute walk to the West. A nice old couple lives there."

"Mine's the last watch, right? Why don't you just stay here."

"To save me the walk, you mean? Thanks, but I'm comfortable where I've been." She paused a moment. "Deanna... I have something I want to tell you."

"Something about how we're going to rescue Prince Nick?" He suspected otherwise; it sounded like she wanted to speak to him friend-to-friend.

"Um, no..."

"Then tell me later," he said, his heart clenching at cutting off what she wanted to say. "After... all this is done."

"I don't know if I can wait that long," she said anxiously, staring up at him with eyes that were almost pleading. His heart burned with the frustrated desire to stay with her, to be her friend as long and as much as she needed. "Deanna, I feel like I'm going to burst if I don't tell you now."

"You won't. You're... strong." With an effort, he steadied the trembling in the hand that held the candle. "Natasha… when we reach the shrine tomorrow, you'll learn something about me… I just want you to know that, no matter what you think of me after that, I never meant you any harm."

"What are you talking about?" She reached out to gently touch his arm. "Deanna, you're scaring me. First you won't talk to me, now you won't let me talk to you! You act like you're planning on hurting yourself."

"No, nothing like that." He placed his free hand on hers in an offer of reassurance. That, too, was something she had shown him. "Don't worry. Tomorrow we'll rescue Prince Nick, and Cypress will be saved. That's all that matters."

Before she could form a response, he stepped out of the room and into the night.


	18. Chapter 18: Fear of Death

- Chapter 18: Fear of Death -

Natasha dashed through the halls of the shrine, her head darting around every corner in desperate search. Though they'd infiltrated the shrine, even slaying another of Iom's generals(probably the last one that was here at the shrine), the fact that they still had not found Prince Nick made her increasingly frantic. The shrine was enormous, and that dragged the search out. Whereas the enemy, of course, would know exactly where they were going. She noticed that Mayfair too moved at a hurried pace, but with far less sign of consternation. She wished that she could have her calmness.

Suddenly she heard Mayfair say, "Wait, listen." She spoke at a normal volume, but the shrine was vast and silent, making her voice easily discernible at a distance. "I hear them up ahead."

Natasha ran to the room where her voice was coming from. Claude, Dawn, and Deanna were already there, and the others arrived in a manner of seconds. They listened, and Natasha could indeed hear footsteps ahead, accompanied by the tight sound of Warderer's voice. She wondered if Mayfair had trained her hearing during the time she was blind.

"Ah, the Cypress army. How far you've come!"

Though the speaker was nowhere in sight, a deep shiver passed through Natasha. The voice had scarcely any human tone or inflection. It was dead, flat, utterly lacking in character or emotion.

Mayfair froze stiff at the sound. "That voice…" she gasped. "I've heard it before!"

Her reaction was alarming in light of her earlier cool. Natasha glanced to Claude and Gyan; they'd known Mayfair longer than any of them. But they looked just as confused by this reaction as she was. Before she could ask Mayfair what was wrong, several large, floating globes materialized at the far end of the room. They moved together, coalesced, forming a humanoid figure.

It was perhaps the most ghastly thing Natasha had ever seen. It bore a passing resemblance to a bald-headed old man, but shriveled and completely emaciated, with hands that were gnarled into misshapen, useless claws. Crude robes were all the pitiable creature had for its vain attempt to keep its deathly white skin warm. The eyes were cold white orbs without pupils or irises.

"Ahem. Me…?" The voice held as much modesty as its absence of character or distinction would allow. _No, not absence,_ Natasha corrected herself. _There is something there to make the voice more than just a flat line, but I can just barely hear it… It's like an echo or a memory gliding behind his physical voice._ "I was Cypress's former ambassador, Woldol."

"No… it can't be!" Mayfair cried out. "Woldol died."

"You're absolutely correct," the creature complimented her, bowing its twisted head slightly. "After defeat and death, my soul couldn't rest. I've come back from death to let you feel my pain and suffering."

He snapped his fingers, making a sound like dry bones cracking. From the side doors, Iom soldiers and beasts poured in.

"Mayfair…" Natasha whispered. "Is it really _him_? Is that really Woldol?"

There was no answer. Natasha turned around and saw that Mayfair was no longer by her side. She had backed up against the wall, her eyes staring at the Woldol thing in horror. Her mouth was open, but she was too terrified to scream. "Mayfair!"

Jaha followed her look. "She's flipped out!"

"Can you blame her? Look at that thing!" Graham exclaimed.

"Stay calm, everyone," Deanna said. "We've fought the dead before, remember? Natasha showed us the way." He turned to the elder members of the group. "You… you fought in the Cypress civil war, right? Is that really Woldol?"

"It's him, alright," Claude said nervously. "I don't know how Mayfair recognized him by his voice alone, but it's him."

"We've defeated him before," Randolf said, brandishing a spear. "And I, for one, have no objections to revisiting the experience. Your orders, Sergeant Deanna?"

Natasha didn't wait to hear more. She ran to Mayfair, hoping to rouse her from her state of shock. But a hand grabbed hold of her arm, bringing her to a halt. "Where do you think you're going, young lady?" Lady Sarah demanded.

"Mayfair -"

"Mayfair doesn't need your help. She's the strongest woman I've ever known; she can easily overcome this."

"Let go!" She pulled, but Sarah's grip was stronger. "I've got to help her - she's all alone!"

"You have more important responsibilities. Aren't you the leader of this group?"

"No!" she cried. "Deanna is our leader. Not me."

Sarah hesitated a moment. "I guess I misjudged you, then," she said with keen disappointment, releasing her grip.

Natasha watched the Lady Sarah join the Cypress forces, who were now moving against the Iom troops, with a feeling strangely like she'd just shirked her duties to go goof off. If she cared about the others, shouldn't she…?

_Yes._ She briefly looked back to Mayfair. "Mayfair… Hold on, you'll be allright!"

With that, she hurried after Deanna; the Cypress troops had already split into two units and were steadily cutting through Woldol's men. "Deanna…what should I…?"

"Come with me," he said, not sparing a moment to even glance at her.

They ran up the steps, catching up to Eric, who had been hit by a sniper. "Eric, are you okay?"

"Ha! If one arrow were to put me out of action, I'd have to be in my golden years. I think he's behind the statue, Natasha."

She pointed in that direction and said, "Blaze." The spell immediately flushed the sniper out, and Deanna cut him down. At the same moment, beyond him she saw that May had strayed from her group in order to freeze a chimera. It was a good thought - those creatures were extremely dangerous, and her freeze magic was especially useful against them - but it left her open to an ambush. An Iom mage and a wyvern suddenly rushed at her. The mage raised a magic ring, and electricity sparked down, stunning May. The wyvern cut her down easily.

"May!" Natasha cried out. "Dawn, Rohde, get that wyvern! Deanna, can you hold off the mage? I think I can -"

"That's not the plan," Deanna protested. "We're taking the west -"

"The plan's been changed! If Woldol's men swarm down the middle aisle, Gyan's group won't be able to hold them alone!"

Without further argument, Deanna moved to distract the mage. Claude, noticing the opportunity, swooped in to help...

----------------------

Even from across the vast chamber, Woldol's eyes bored into Mayfair's. They seemed to hold her in place, mocking her struggles, binding her until he could reach out and -

_Don't think about it!_ She snapped her eyes shut, but she could still feel Woldol's eyes on her, violating her mind, searching out her every fear.

_No! Damn you Mayfair!_ she raged at herself. _Those soldiers are in your care, and you let them fight alone while you stand on the sidelines, paralyzed by figments of your imagination? Hiding from Woldol, just like... just like..._

_Don't think about it! Think of the children!_ Natasha, Deanna, Dawn, Jaha, Luke, Eric... in spite of all their experience, they were still so young. How could she abandon them like this? She had to help them, had to help poor beloved Natasha... she couldn't let her fight alone against the man who'd killed her family, just like... like...

_Don't think about it! Don't -_

----------------------

"FATHER!" Mayfair screamed at the top of her lungs as the Cypress officer split his noble head from his shoulders. Even though it was too late, she re-doubled her useless struggles against the two Cypress soldiers who held her.

"Silence the girl," the officer ordered. "Her screams are unnerving."

Another soldier came forward and struck her hard across the face with the flat of his hand. While she was still stunned by the sudden pain, he tied a dirty rag around her mouth. For good measure, he punched her in the stomach, knocking the breath out of her. Only the tears running down her face still attested to her anguish.

"What should we do with her?" one of the soldiers holding her asked.

"She's committed no crime," the officer mused. "On the other hand, death may be the most merciful fate for her. And she _is_ the archbishop's daughter."

"Forgive me for interrupting," a new voice said. These were the first words she ever heard from Woldol's hated mouth. At the moment, though, she didn't care who he was. She was still staring at her father's corpse, silently sobbing against the gag. She heard Woldol's words but paid them no heed.

"But it seems your teachers failed to properly teach you how to follow directions, my dear lieutenant," Woldol continued, in the tone of a man trying to bargain from a position of desperation. "My orders stated that you were not to harm the archbishop of Cypress until I'd had the chance to make his acquaintance. Did you not receive them?"

"My job here is to eliminate those who would rebel against our rightful King in favor of his upstart nephew, ambassador," the officer said sharply. "Not to facilitate your twisted games."

"Well. That's right devoted of you, commander," Woldol said with a respectful bow of his head. "You clearly have much more discipline that I do. Everyone here," - raising his voice so that everyone would take note - "...should follow this man's example. He serves his king well."

"Thank you, ambassador," the officer said, with neither pride nor embarrassment.

"However," Woldol went on, "...at the same time, he makes the mistake of antagonizing one of his countrymen, one who is _not_ his inferior in rank. This creates dissension, and internal conflict. These are the things that fell great nations."

"My apologies, ambassador. I knew you only by reputation, and took you to be an impudent political upstart, a man who believes his position gives him the right to do whatever he pleases. I see now that I misjudged you."

"Yes, you did. And since you've robbed me of the opportunity to entertain myself with the archbishop, I think it fitting that you take his place. Transform!"

The officer was still standing beside her father's corpse, so Mayfair's shocked eyes witnessed his hands suddenly forming scales, his hooves twisting into ugly talons. In a matter of moments, the officer's fingers had transformed into ten writhing, hissing snakes. He stepped backward in fright, tripping over her father's body. She heard him scream as one of the snakes bit into his neck. Horrified, she at last took a look at the man who had done this thing.

Woldol was still courtly and dignified as he stepped up to the two bodies. He smiled in pleasure. "Transform lasts less than a minute, costs a good deal of strength, and fails to take effect half the time. Quite amusing when it does work, though." Without warning, his eyes turned and looked directly into hers. The suddenness of his demonic gaze was enough to make her scream in terror, but the gag silenced her.

"I see that the dear lieutenant saved me something, at least," Woldol continued, his eyes devouring her face. He stepped forward and gently took hold of her jaw. His fingers felt like a mass of the malignant boils that she and her father had to treat from time to time. "Who is this pretty little weeping willow?"

"The archbishop's daughter, sir," one of the soldiers answered.

"There's no need for this," he said, removing the gag from her mouth. He gave a gasp of mild delight. "Ah! Who would want to hide such a pretty little mouth?"

His words were disturbingly reminiscent of her late grandmother. She stared up at his massive face, heart pounding with uncertainty at what he intended to do with her.

"What's your name, my dear girl?"

His voice was polite, but remembering how polite he'd been to the officer, she was afraid not to answer honestly. "M-M-Mayfair."

"Mayfair. Would you like to play a game with me?"

While her jaw hung half open, uncertain how to answer, Woldol reached a hand out, covering her eyes. She pulled away, but the Cypress soldiers held her tightly, and Woldol simply reached forward until her head was pressed back against an armored chest. His grip firmly over her forehead, Woldol whispered something, but she couldn't hear what it was over her own struggling.

A moment later, he released her face and stepped back. "Now, Mayfair," he said delicately, "...here are the rules. You may be just a young lady, but you're also the daughter of the archbishop of Cypress. The rebels could use you as a symbol. And so, you must die. But because you are an unfortunate victim of fate, I'm going to give you a running chance. You'll have one minute before we come after you." He looked up to the soldiers. "Release her."

The instant their grip loosened, Mayfair bolted. As she ran as fast as her young legs would carry her, she was tempted to count the seconds. However, she realized she had no way of knowing how fast Woldol would count, or if he really intended to count at all. She passed a neighbor's house on the left, but she knew there was no one there to offer her sanctuary anymore.

"Fifty seconds left," Woldol announced. She would have pushed her legs harder if she could have.

Suddenly, before her eyes the whole world went black. Everything, everyone, was gone. Though she could still feel her legs pumping, there was no longer anywhere to run. Sucked into a sudden void, Mayfair screamed.

Woldol chuckled at her confusion, and several of the Cypress soldiers laughed with him. "Better get used to being blind, my dear girl; that spell is permanent. Forty seconds."

She settled on a new direction: the opposite from where Woldol's voice was coming from, as far as she could tell. Her sole thought became getting away from that terrible voice. But she could no longer see the ground in front of her, and her foot caught on something. She fell, much to the amusement of the soldiers watching.

"Thirty seconds."

Mayfair struggled to get up, but the ground beneath her was uneven. What had she fallen on? She reached with her hands, trying to feel out what she could no longer see. Her fingers came to something moist and resilient... a tongue. She had tripped over one of Woldol's victims. Mayfair reeled back in new horror.

"Twenty seconds."

Woldol's voice brought her back to her own danger; she pushed away from the body, got up, and ran.

_Wait... What if he wasn't really dead, just hurt? I could have healed him... No, he had to have been dead!_

She slammed into a log house. The guards roared with laughter. Dazed, she stumbled back two steps before reaching out to slowly feel her way around the corner of the house. Side step, reach, side step, reach. She took a breath to steady herself. Side step, reach, side step, reach. _Where is it!? Does this house go on forever?_

"Run, my little blind mouse, run," Woldol sang. "You're not much challenge, but you are great amusement. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight..."

----------------------

She learned new levels of fear that day. Not just of Woldol himself, and what he would do to her if he caught her, but the fear of blindness. The fear of not knowing whether she ran towards freedom or a collision with a stone wall, the fear of reaching out with a hand without knowing whether she would grasp the railing of the steps to a cellar to hide in or the arm of a Cypress soldier.

Mayfair thought she had killed her fear in that horrible ordeal, destroyed the power for anything to make her afraid ever again. She had confronted Woldol without giving in to fear before; she shouldn't be afraid now.

_But that was different. I didn't fear him before because I thought we could put an end to him. Now that he's dead, and still hunting me... I know that I'll never escape him._

She tried thinking of Nick. He was counting on her to save him... all of Cypress was. If she let her childhood demons overcome her, soon every boy and girl of Cypress would have their own Woldol to haunt them.

Taking a deep breath, Mayfair raised her staff and stepped away from the wall. Then the gaze of Woldol fell upon her, his one desire to finish the game he'd begun with her years ago. Mayfair trembled.

----------------------

Most of the Cypress force was still fighting the Iom troops, but Natasha, Jaha, and Randolf freed themselves from the conflict in order to attend to Woldol. If they didn't tackle him now, he would go after those occupied by the battle and pick them off one-by-one.

Nonetheless, there was no denying the trepidation Natasha felt. Deanna was right that they had fought the dead before, but this was not the same. The zombies they'd fought were no more empty shells, reanimated by magic. The creature they faced now had soul as well as body; not a puppet, but a genuine dead man.

Woldol was silent, not even needing to speak a word to cast a level 3 Freeze spell at Randolf. As the royal knight reeled back against the cold, Natasha cried, "Jaha! Now!"

With Woldol focused on Randolf, Jaha leapt forward and chopped his axe deep into the dead man's hide. At the same moment, Natasha cast Blaze, burning the frigid creature and setting the head of Jaha's axe aflame. While Woldol roared with pain, Jaha pulled the blazing axe free and stuck him again. Natasha's flames added to the destructive effect.

With a growl, Woldol cast Freeze on Jaha's legs. To Natasha's shock, at that close range it was enough to freeze them solid. With Jaha momentarily stunned by his immobility, Woldol knocked the flaming axe from his grip.

Recovering from the Freeze spell, Randolf galloped to the dwarf's rescue. Woldol exhumed a tidal wave of cold air at him, knocking the knight to the ground. Natasha's Blaze spells continued to damage Woldol, but they didn't bring him down.

"Did you think I'd forget you, Randolf?" Woldol said. "It was you who killed my beloved creature. Iom promised me that he's prepared a special hell for you."

He turned to Natasha now, countering her Blaze magic with Freeze. It was like a nightmare version of her duel with the sorcerer: instead of merely stopping her flames, Woldol's magic was actually pushing them back, letting him step closer and closer. And this time, there was nothing around her that could be set aflame. Moreover, even if she could risk dropping her guard to cast Freeze, it would only restore Woldol's icy body. Her mind was still racing for some idea when Woldol reached out with a gnarled hand and snatched her arm. The shock of his sub-zero touch, even through her robes, made her lose concentration on Blaze and cry out.

"Natasha!" She looked and saw Deanna abandoning an opponent to run to her aid. The man he'd been fighting struck at him as he broke away, slashing his side open. Deanna ignored the wound, raising his sword to strike Woldol down.

"How rude!" Woldol remarked, raising his free hand to cast Freeze level 3. "Interrupting just as a person is making a young lady's acquaintance!"

The frost bit hard into Deanna's open wound, making his side clench up. While he gasped in shock, Woldol struck at him with his free hand, cutting deep furrows into his chest and hurling him backwards. Baring his teeth against the harsh wounds, Deanna struggled to his feet. Halfway up, he suddenly groaned, fell back to the floor, and did not move again.

"Deanna? You've killed him!" she screamed at Woldol, tears of grief and rage pouring down her face.

"What would you expect a dead man to bring, my dear girl, besides death?"

She gestured with her free hand. "Blaze!"

Nothing happened. Somehow, his grip on her arm prevented her magic from working.

"So hostile," Woldol crooned. "When I first saw you, I thought you felt sorry for me. Where is your sympathy now?"

"You've killed everyone I loved," she sobbed in frustration.

"If I had a gold coin for every time I've heard that, I could buy my way back to life. Instead, I'm trapped in this accursed state. Do you know what it's like having eyes of solid ice?" He reached for her eyes. "I'll show you."

"Woldol!" It was Mayfair, her head held high with new determination. She stepped forward, staff at the ready. "Take your hands off that child!"

Her staff came down hard against Woldol's shoulders. He staggered under the force, and Natasha felt his grip release her arm. Before Woldol could retaliate, Mayfair slammed her staff into his solar plexus. The blow sent him flying into the wall. Natasha heard his body crack in a dozen places.

The dead creature struggled to rise. "Mayfair," he croaked out. "You..."

But Natasha saw her chance, and stretched her hand towards Woldol. "This is for my family!" _And for Deanna,_ she added to herself "Blaze!" This time, she used level 3. A waste of energy against a single opponent, but she wanted to be sure.

This time, her flames did not go out, but fed hungrily at the breaks in Woldol's body. "What's happening..." he gargled, his voice now thick and syrupy. "I'm melting! Oh, King Warderer. Help me!"

His fingers, as though weary of maintaining their brittle gnarled form, dripped and slipped together until his hands were nothing but shapeless lumps. His legs turned to putty, unable to support his weight. His robes became indistinguishable from the form they'd cloaked. Features dissolved, mouth drooping open like the wail of a ghost. "I'm melting!" he moaned. "Oim mullgiiinnnnnn..." With the sudden upset of an avalanche, his body collapsed into a puddle of slush.

"Oh gods," Natasha whispered. "What have I done?"

"You did nothing, Natasha," Mayfair said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "It's the fate of evil to end life this way. How horrifying!"

Natasha nodded sadly. "And... Deanna..."

"Good spirits," Mayfair gasped, and ran to where his lifeless body lay. "He doesn't look well."

"'Doesn't look well'!? He's dead!"

"Natasha, please. His pulse is very weak, probably from Woldol making direct contact with his flesh. I hope his will to live is strong enough. Now go! Lead the others; clear out the rest of Woldol's men."

----------------------

The mop-up took only a minute or two, and the main difficulty was re-grouping the now scattered members of the Cypress army. Once it was done, she hurried to report back to Mayfair, who was still crouched beside Deanna's body. When Natasha reached her, she gasped. Deanna's chest was visibly beating, and his eyes were gradually opening. "Deanna?"

"Natasha," he answered, weakly at first, but his voice gained strength as he spoke. "Are you... all right?"

"Yes. Yes. Oh, Mayfair," she said, embracing her general. She wept with joy. "Thank you thank you thank you. You saved Deanna - you saved me, from that awful thing. That was so wonderful!"

Mayfair firmly hugged her back. "I couldn't let him hurt you, Natasha, no matter what he might do to me. Now tell me," she said, gently pushing her away. "...are the Iom troops taken care of?"

"Yes. Some of our people are badly hurt, though."

"We don't have time to waste; they may be sacrificing Prince Nick any second. Take everyone who's battle-ready and go. I'll stay here to heal the others."

"But we may need you in there! We still don't know what Warderer himself is capable of."

"The young lady has a point," Slade put in. "I'll tend the wounded. You go."

"I have a name, you know," Natasha snapped as Slade went off to his work. He seemed good at heart, but the priest had a knack for saying the most annoying and presumptuous things possible, especially with respect to women.

The rest of the army followed Mayfair to the door to the next room. "Are you coming, Natasha?"

"Deanna needs help," she answered. "We'll catch up."

As they poured out of the room, Natasha slung Deanna's arm across her shoulder. "Ready?" He nodded, and she carefully hoisted him up onto his feet. He clung to her still for support, and she said, "Take your time."

Her voice was calm, but her heart pounded. She had thought she'd lost him... and she very nearly had. He could have died without ever knowing.

"Deanna... I have something to tell you."

"After," he said wearily. "Things will be different after. Tell me th-"

"No, Deanna!" she said, her eyes sharpened with anger. "After may be too late! I could die without telling you; you could die without my having the chance! I need you to know... Deanna, I love you."

He stared at her.

She was prepared for any of three reactions: a cold rejection, an awkward evasion, or a reciprocal declaration. Though her heart burned with yearning for the latter, she expected one of the former two. She knew that she was not pretty, and her habit of saying things without thinking didn't make her any more appealing. Deanna probably had a dozen girls back in his hometown with more interest for him than her.

What she got was worse than any of those possibilities. He stepped back, removing his arm from her shoulder, his eye filled with such sorrow that she felt her heart would break. The warmth his strong, reassuring arm had brought to her shoulder rapidly faded, leaving her colder than before.

"You don't know what you're saying," he said in a choked voice. "And once... once you do know... you'll wish more than anything that you could take those words back."

He tore his gaze from her and ran after the Cypress army. Natasha felt a terrible ache in her heart that she'd really only known once before, when she'd made that flippant(though accurate) remark about his face: the ache of having caused him sadness. And this time his sadness was far more poignant, her ache more terrible.

She whispered after him in response, "I already do."


	19. Chapter 19: Revelation of Truth

- Chapter 19: Revelation of Truth -

Deanna knew that his mind should be more on the battle. The lives at stake included at least his brother and the Cypressian King, either of which were more than important enough on their own. Natasha was mainly leaning on him to lead the team, and as confused as her emotional state must be, Deanna understood her hesitation. And though Warderer's remaining men were few in number, they were all elite troops, and Warderer was clearly a skilled strategist.

Even so, he kept on mentally kicking himself over two things. Firstly for inadvertently bringing Hindel into his mess. Now that his treachery had been discovered, Deanna felt more guilty than ever about it. _It took him years of constant hard work to get to his position while having to look after a brother who couldn't do anything for himself. Now I've destroyed everything he worked for._

His more recent screw-up was with Natasha. As soon as he'd left the scene of their battle with Woldol, he realized how what he'd said must have confused her. There was no doubt that she believed what she'd said, and to have those words thrown back at her that way... _She'll understand soon, but I shouldn't have confused her that way, even for these few minutes. I always thought so little of myself... for all the love I felt for her, I never imagined I could have earned her love in turn. (Using the word "earned" very loosely, of course.) She took me by surprise, and I just reacted._

Deanna shook his head and reminded himself that he could fix these mistakes if he just focused on the task at hand. With Warderer dead, no one would ever know of Hindel's treason; he could continue his role as general for the new king of Iom. As for Natasha, she would quickly forget the feelings she'd wasted on him once she was reunited with her true love, Prince Nicholas.

In short order they had a rough plan worked out. Deanna pushed the troops forward slowly, not giving their enemies a chance to single out one or two or even three of them to attack. Their smaller numbers prevented the Iom troops from surrounding or overwhelming the Cypress army, so they had no choice but to try in vain to stand their ground as the Cypressians hunted them down and defeated them. It was fortunate that Warderer had only his special guards in the shrine; if he'd had more men, they'd have been in for a genuine fight. What was happening instead was more of a rout.

Deanna kept his eye on Warderer, watching for any unexpected changes in the orders he gave. Suddenly, his king snarled and raised his hand in a mystic gesture. "Enough of this! SPARK!"

Deanna had mastered Spark level 2 at this point, but what followed was like nothing he'd ever seen. Within an astoundingly wide radius of Warderer, jagged blades of sheer electricity tore the air. The combined thunder produced was almost deafening, and the electricity itself was far more devastating. Deanna had ordered the troops to avoid Warderer himself, but the range of the spell was so wide that it is still caught five of them, jolting them with so much power that they immediately fell to the floor.

"Sarah, make use of that Aura spell, fast!" he shouted, and charged at Warderer. He was determined now; the king of Iom had to die. And with all the strength he'd found since coming to Castle Cypress, he knew he could do it.

His sword struck hard against Warderer's, sending tremors of force through their bodies, but neither wavered. "Uggh," the king remarked. "I'd hoped to thin the herd a bit more before one of you became bold enough to attack me."

"You've done more than enough harm already," Deanna said furiously, "...to my friends, to Cypress, and to Iom."

"Iom? What does a Cypressian care for Iom?" He twirled his sword casually with his wrists, striking at Deanna from lower left, upper right, middle left. Deanna had to use all of his speed to keep his defense up. "You're the one General Mayfair speculated to know Hindel. Are you an Iomite? That would explain it. But if you are an Iomite, why should your general be surprised that you're familiar with Iom's generals?"

Deanna didn't waste any breath answering his questions. He now understood Warderer's basic fighting style, and from the depths of his memory he called to mind an obscure move Hindel had shown him once. In a twinkling, he turned aside his foe's attack and set him on the defensive.

Their swords met barely an inch from Warderer's chest. Warderer shifted his blade and pushed, hurling Deanna away from him. Deanna was stronger than him, but just barely, and he knew how to turn momentum and weight to best advantage. "Bah; trying to unravel this pointless enigma is giving me a headache."

Deanna got back to his feet; Warderer was not wasting time by going after him. He had to be stopped from hitting the group with Spark again, but his chances of beating Warderer alone didn't look good. And he had to try to stay alive; all Hindel's efforts would be wasted if he died now.

That was when he spotted Rohde approaching Warderer from behind. The Iom king would surely notice him in just a second, but maybe if...

"Graham!" he called. The centaur heard him and immediately understood. He fired off a shot that struck Warderer in the arm. The distraction allowed Rohde to hit a blow with his axe, and Deanna moved in to add to Warderer's worries.

They were doing solid damage, but with Warderer's armor protecting him, it wasn't enough. He raised his hand and once more cast Spark. The others had fallen back, but Deanna, Rohde, and Graham were all hit. The bolts set off the purest agony that Deanna could have imagined; he gasped and fell tumbling backwards.

"Take it easy, Deanna." It was Luke, carefully healing the damage caused by the electricity. "Natasha's leading the others; they'll take care of His Royal Stuffiness."

He looked up. In point of fact, aside from Graham continuing to fire from a safe distance, Natasha was standing alone against Warderer, hitting him with Freeze. He understood her reasoning: the fewer people attacking Warderer at once, the fewer he could hit with Spark.

"No," he said, leaping back to his feet. "He's mine."

"Really? I never thought of mad despots as being your type."

Natasha was standing on Warderer's opposite side, and so saw Deanna coming. "You... dope! Stay back!"

He ignored her, and in an instant his blade again clashed with that of his king.

"You are quite tiresome. Persistent, but without providing a significant challenge."

"Babble all you wish, sire," Deanna returned, seething with even greater anger now that he had tried to hurt Natasha. "Your hollow threats mean nothing to me."

"I see. Then it follows that I can only be rid of your harassment by terminating your life."

This was far easier said than done, however. Even Warderer's resilient form had been weakened by their attacks, and his movements were slowed. He managed to wound Deanna in the side, but he could not achieve a lethal blow despite taking his opponent more seriously this time, and in short order Deanna had him on the defensive. Natasha continued to hit him with Freeze, but though she would be an easy target for his swordsmanship, Warderer dared not turn from Deanna's assault.

Dawn's spear suddenly struck Warderer in the leg. His reaction was far less than it would be for most beings, but it was enough for Deanna to knock his sword from his hands and bring the point of his own blade to his throat.

He wasn't sure why he didn't just kill him then. Most likely he'd considered the fact that Mayfair would probably want him alive, at least for the moment. Warderer growled, his face twisted with a frightening volume of indignant rage. "I can't believe you defeated me, the King of Iom! I'll be back!" Without warning, he cast Egress.

"Warderer disappeared!" he heard Mayfair gasp in dismay. "Where... Where did he go?"

"I'm right here." Deanna looked, and saw him standing less than 20 meters away... beside the altar which bore the hapless Prince Nicholas. He snarled, "Nick will be sacrificed and I'll regain my strength! And you'll be annihilated! LEVITATE!"

Warderer's spell raised Prince Nicholas off the altar, where he hovered in mid-air, a mere shove away from falling into the unholy liquid that surrounded the far side of the altar. Natasha cried out in alarm, and Deanna looked desperately for anyone that could reach the Iom king. But Graham and Claude had been hovering along the opposite edge of Warderer's range, and Chester was still recovering from Spark. Deanna couldn't reach him in time with his sword, and what good would Spark do against someone of Warderer's abilities?

"My dear King Warderer," Hindel said regretfully. Then he slammed into Warderer, knocking him down. He immediately lost grip of his spell, and Prince Nick fell back to the altar with a grunt of pain. Deanna was upon Warderer in half a moment; he wouldn't make the same mistake again.

"Deanna, no!" His sword, descending upon Warderer's head, was blocked by Hindel's. Deanna looked up at his brother in astonishment. Hindel seemed equally astonished, though not in the same way. "Deanna... you could have killed him," he said with just a hint of pride. "You really could have killed him."

Deanna flushed. To hear even one word of respect from Hindel was an almost unbearable joy. Below him, Warderer grunted, "Hmmm. Hindel, have you come to interfere again?"

"Who? Me?" Saying nothing more to Deanna, he stepped back to the altar to free Prince Nicholas from his bonds. Deanna kept a sharp eye on Warderer, ready to run him through at the first hint of another spell. However, he stood at a position such that he could also get a good view of the reunion between the Prince and his people. His heart pounded, waiting for the moment when Hindel would reveal his identity.

"Prince Nick!" Mayfair said, running to greet the Prince of Cypress. "I'm so glad you're safe." Deanna could tell she wanted to embrace him; she had that affectionate look in her eye. She restrained herself, however.

The Prince was everything he'd imagined he'd be from what Natasha had told him. "I'd like to thank all of you for saving me," he said with such graciousness that Deanna never thought that he was being included in this thanks. "Especially Hindel."

Mayfair cocked her head shrewdly. "Perchance, did Gyan know about Hindel?"

"Of course, he knew. But we had to deceive the enemy." He tore his eyes from Mayfair and walked towards Warderer. But his eyes were not on him, but on Deanna. His heart pounded. _What could he possibly want with me?_

"You must be Deanna." Deanna looked up at Prince Nicholas in bewilderment. "You look exactly like Hindel."

"Yes," he said. His knees were beginning to shake. He gripped his sword arm with his other hand to keep from stabbing Warderer with his trembling.

"What?" Mayfair exclaimed, looking back and forth between the two brothers. "Deanna and Hindel?"

"He's Hindel's brother," Prince Nick said simply.

Deanna reflexively turned away in shame. One could have heard an insect taking a stroll in the silence that followed. _There... it's all out in the open now._

"Deanna," Natasha whispered, "...why didn't you tell me?"

He had nothing he could say to her.

_No! I have to say something... to ease her hurt... _"Natasha... I'm sorry."

"Hindel owed Warderer and couldn't betray him," Prince Nick explained. "But, he couldn't forgive him for sending his brother into Cypress."

_What? "Hindel owed..."?_ He looked to his brother in confusion.

Hindel approached him and said, softly so that the others couldn't hear, "Deanna, when I first started to ascend the ranks of the Iom army, I claimed I was the son of an impoverished farmer who died in a famine. When I first came under His Majesty's notice as a lieutenant, he granted me an allowance to provide for our education. Under my salary at that time, I had been barely able to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads, considering the rate at which you wore out your clothes.

"When I was given the rank of general, Barbara immediately recognized the threat I posed to her ambition. She made several attempts to disgrace me, but only the first one came close to succeeding. She apparently did some investigation into my background, because shortly in the first council of war His Majesty held since my becoming general, she presented documentation of my true lineage: the son of a politician who'd forever disgraced himself and his family by his devotion to drink."

"Don't talk like that about our father," Deanna protested. "He was a good man. He did all he could to -"

"I wasn't asking your opinion, Deanna." Recognizing the subtle tone of anger that always came when he talked about their father, Deanna shut up. "I was completely shamed in front of my peers. I expected nothing less than to be stripped of my rank and consigned to work as a foot soldier. But King Warderer said that a man should not be judged by the failures or successes of his father. He acknowledged the truth of Barbara's accusations, but dismissed them as irrelevant.

"Without King Warderer, we'd have been condemned to begging in the streets. We owe him everything, Deanna."

"And yet you betrayed me!" Warderer growled. "I see I was wrong to think you were better than your father."

"I'd speak with more respect to Hindel, if I were you," Nick put in. "Without him speaking in your defense, a Cypress court will undoubtedly give you a sentence of death."

"Regicide? You wouldn't dare!"

Nick smiled. "Look who's talking."

"I offered those sacrifices knowing Iom could resist any nation who opposed," Warderer sneered. "But those faint-hearted Guardianans won't approve of your trespass, and Cypress can ill afford bad relations with Guardiana at this point."

"That would be true... if you were the king of Iom." The Cypress Prince waited for a look of confusion to fall on Warderer's face. "I took time to do a bit of research in the library at Castle Cypress. My father took pains to amass a collection of useful texts from all around the world, and I've found some genealogical texts that suggest that your bloodline is not in fact older than Aaron's."

Gyan put in, "I found the proof you wanted in the Iom library, your highness, just as you expected. It's in a safe place."

"So _that's_ why Claude, Randolf, and Lady Sarah met up with us so long before you did!" Mayfair exclaimed. "You could have told me, Gyan!"

Lady Sarah cleared her throat. "Actually, I could have told you, too. When we separated from Gyan, he agreed to be the one to stay and find out about Warderer's bloodline."

"Good spirits, Nick!" Mayfair said, throwing her arms in the air in frustration. "You've certainly kept me out of the loop, haven't you?"

"They needed to know, to do their duty," Prince Nick answered. "You didn't."

Warderer glared at Hindel. "You actually believe this slander? They obviously forged those texts."

"I don't know whether it's slander or not," Hindel answered. "And I honestly don't care. Whatever your bloodline is, you're King of Iom as far as I'm concerned, and I intend to serve you until the end." He turned to Deanna. "I expect you to do the same."

Deanna nodded. He still hated Warderer with all his heart, but the debt he owed was undeniable. As long as it did not involve harming any of the Cypressians, it was one he was bound to repay.

"You understand the deal, Warderer?" Prince Nick said. "You're going to declare an end to the war with Cypress, and with any other countries you might be invading. You'll be brought back to Cypress to stand trial. My preference is for you to be executed, but I owe Hindel something for all he's done, and he's asked for your life. You'll probably have to serve 10 to 15 years in a Cypress prison, but after that you'll be returned to Iom. You can try to regain your throne after that, of course, but after your spectacular failure here, I doubt many Iomites will want you back. In the unlikely event that you ever regain any of your old power, I doubt you'll be foolish enough to cross swords with Cypress again."

"You miserable curs," Warderer said. "You would never have won without a traitor on your side."

"You're on thin ice, Warderer," Nick warned. "I'm not the only one here who'd like to see you dead. I suggest you co-"

"You'll die, Hindel," he snarled, and suddenly blasted Hindel with his magic. Too late, Deanna realized that he had taken his eye off Warderer when Prince Nick revealed that he was Hindel's brother. The King of Iom was standing out of his reach now, glowering at his brother, who was writing on the floor in agony.

"No! Hindel!" Prince Nick cried out.

"Levitate," Warderer said, and Hindel raised up to a spot as precarious as the one the Prince of Cypress had been in a minute ago. "Prepare to meet your reward, traitor!"

"Don't be a fool, Warderer! Deanna won't defend you if you kill his brother. Hindel's the one thing keeping you from the executioner's block!"

Warderer laughed. "There's no way I can win. But Hindel will be my final sacrifice. Then, I'll call on Iom to destroy all of Cypress."

Deanna watched in horror as his brother floated over the sacrificial pit. He could hear Prince Nick calling "Hindel! Hindel!" with an anxiety born of hopelessness, and knew there was nothing any of them could do.

The way Hindel's normally firm features were contorted showed that the pain from Warderer's spell was still several times greater than any he'd ever felt. Even so, he managed to gasp out, "Nick! Please… care for Deanna, my… brother!" Tears swelled in Deanna's eyes at the undisguised love he heard in his voice. "Pl… ea… se…"

Warderer's power released him. Hindel fell into the pit, and both mithril knight's armor and the warm heart that beat within were instantly buried.

----------------------

Strange though it would sound, Deanna felt no immediate reaction to his brother's death. He didn't have the chance to. Warderer dove into the sacrificial pit immediately after Hindel, and the king's death was a god's rebirth.

Deanna felt Iom's presence before he could see him: a power greater than his wildest imaginings, a hunger deeper than his most profound anguish. All the shame he'd ever felt, all his remorse at the hurt he'd caused Natasha with his deception, all his grief over Hindel's death, was but a cup of water in a vast sea compared to that insatiable hunger, and all his hopes and good intentions were only fanciful dreams if they stood opposed to that absolute power.

Yet Deanna felt no fear. The pig does not fear the farmer who butchers him at the proper time. He fell to his knees in reverence just before the terrible form of his god rose from the pit.

Iom was far more hideous, far more _real_, than any of the statues representing him. Deanna knew that from now on he would see those statues as crude caricatures of the god's magnificence. Even half submerged in the sacrificial pit, Iom was nearly as large as a room. From his broad, pulsing torso extended two thick arms with clawed hands that tensed and untensed with barely containable strength - nothing like the sleek limbs of his idols. In the center of his stomach was a gaping maw of long pointed teeth, as though the hungry god could not bear the wait of food traveling down a digestive track. Crowning this fearful form was a great horned head, with the menacing visage hidden in shadow by a pair of protective plates and two long mandibles. But perhaps most startling was the wings, for they were not the powerful eagle wings represented in the statues, but two pairs of ebony bat wings. It was these, even more than his shadowed visage, which told Deanna that Iom was not a compassionate, protective god.

Faintly, he heard the sounds of his former friends and comrades yelling out reactions to Iom's rebirth, but he did not listen. The sounds they made were drowned out by a voice that dwarfed their importance, a voice that spoke not to his ears but to his soul. But the thoughts it communicated were far too complex for his mortal mind to understand, and he only continued to kneel and bow his head. Though he had never chosen to serve Iom, confronted with the intimate presence of a god, he could only worship.

The voice spoke again, the concepts and emotions beyond his grasp.

"I don't understand," Deanna said in frustration. He wanted to weep; a deity had honored his lowliness by speaking to him, and he could not fathom its meaning.

The voice paused. Coordinating its message to Deanna's primitive thought patterns, it said, _Deanna, why do you reject me?_

"I didn't want Prince Nicholas to die. I couldn't let Warderer feed him to you."

_Those who I feed on do not die._

"Hindel," Deanna sobbed, suddenly remembering. "You... fed on him."

_He is not dead. I absorb the essence of those I consume, so that their strength further powers mine. All those I feed on live forever, as a part of me._

"But I miss him so much… He's the only person… who really cares about me. He's always protected me… loved me. Even when I was little. He's my brother!" He wiped his eyes. "And inside you… there's no one who loves him. He's all alone."

_Would you like to be reunited with Hindel?_

"Yes! Oh please, yes!"

_Then come to the sacrificial pit. Though you have not served me, I understand your suffering, your emptiness without your brother, and I will welcome you._

"Yes..."

It was the only way. Once he too became part of Iom, he would be with Hindel again, and he could keep his brother company. Deanna stood and walked towards the pit. _Besides, there is nothing left for me on this world anymore. Nothing..._

"Deanna!"

He froze. It was Natasha's voice.

"The Sword of Hajya - Prince Nick needs it!"

Deanna shook his head clear. _What was I thinking? Natasha is still in danger! Iom wants to feed on her, too; I can feel it. He wants to feed on all the Cypressians... my friends... I can't let him!_

"Forgive me, Iom." It was a hopeless fight, perhaps, but to protect Natasha and the rest of the Cypressians, he would defy even his god. He cut the Sword of Hajya loose from where he'd strapped it over his back and ran to the Prince of Cypress.

"Your highness!" he called, holding the sword in front of him with both hands. "Your highness... here is your sword."


	20. Chapter 20: Redemption of Failure

Author's Notes: Please excuse the interruption; I'll try to be brief. First, my apologies that chapter 20 strays into novelization territory, but I thought the book would read funny if I skipped over the battle with Iom. I hope you all enjoy the conclusion of "Deanna and Natasha". Afterwards, you can check out my profile page for news on the future of Shining Force CD Bi-weekly.

Thanks so much for sticking with me this far, and thanks especially to those of you who have posted reviews for my work! Now back to the story...

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- Chapter 20: Redemption of Failure -

Nick was unfamiliar with most of the troops under his command; he didn't know their fears and weaknesses, nor their strengths and talents. Fortunately, the new soldiers performed magnificently, as he would have expected of anyone who'd been trained under Mayfair, and Claude, Gyan, Randolf, and Lady Sarah were as dependable as ever. Leading them came natural to Nick, and on reflection he realized that such adaptability would be necessary for any king.

Two teams of three(one lead by Natasha, the other by Randolf) were holding off the highly armored creatures that Iom continued to conjure forth. The rest of them had taken down Iom's two tails, which had been guarding the way to his main body. Iom himself remained immobile, but by Nick's guess he would gain the strength to rise completely from the pit if he fed on two or three people.

"People of Cypress," he addressed the group that was with him. "...you've done your work to the highest of my expectations. At this point I must ask all of you to stand back, and let your king perform his duty."

"Nick," Mayfair said anxiously, "...you intend to fight Iom alone?"

"Not fight him..." He drew the Sword of Hajya. "Merely strike the first blow."

"Again with that sword?" Gyan growled. "Nick, I thought we agreed that was nothing more than superstition."

"While I was captive, Hindel convinced me otherwise." In truth, he had let Gyan think it a myth that the Sword of Hajya was the only thing that could defeat Iom's power only so that he wouldn't object when they left the Sword behind at Castle Cypress. Gyan wouldn't have approved of his letting himself be captured.

"But why strike that first blow without anyone to support you?" Mayfair persisted.

"I should think you could have figured that out yourself. We don't know how powerful Iom is; logically, we should risk as few lives as possible in finding out." He'd hoped his reasoning would reassure Mayfair. The look on her face showed that it had had the opposite effect.

"My King, you speak of a potential suicide mission," Lady Sarah said.

"Yes. Do you see any other way?"

"Your highness," Deanna interrupted. "...your plan is, ah... sensible. But it... it involves the wrong person. You're the... least expendable person here. I should do it."

Nick smiled, laying a hand on Deanna's shoulder. "It's very noble of you to volunteer, Deanna." He took a breath, as though about to accept. "Gyan, hold him!"

Gyan stepped forward and wrapped his thick arms around the startled Iomite. "Don't let go of him until Iom is defeated," Nick ordered. Gyan nodded.

_I failed to protect you, Hindel, but I swear on my father's grave that I will not fail to protect your brother._

"Lady Sarah, stand by at a safe distance, and be ready to heal me if there is need. The rest of you, stand as far back as possible."

Sarah nodded and moved to take her position, but Mayfair objected, "I can heal faster than Lady Sarah; I'll do it."

"I said that the rest of you are to stand as far back as possible," Nick said sharply. "That goes double for you, Mayfair."

He clasped both hands around his sword and approached Iom. Sweat ran down his face. This was not the way he liked doing things; he preferred certainty in his battle plans, at least as far as his own life was concerned. But he had forfeited that option when he'd misjudged Warderer. Hindel had died because of that mistake, and now there was a resurrected Iom to contend with, something he hadn't planned on. Deanna was the only other one who could strike the first blow against him, and Nick would not allow Hindel's dying wish to be unfulfilled. This risky one-man assault was a fitting way to atone for his failure: having gambled with Hindel's life for his own sake, he would now gamble his own life for Hindel's sake. He still didn't like it, but it was necessary.

Footsteps sounded behind him. He whirled around and said fiercely, "If you come one step closer, Mayfair, so help me, I'll have Natasha exiled." He looked directly into her eyes to show that he meant it. She quickly stepped back.

It cost him a good deal of emotional effort to threaten her that way, but he couldn't let Mayfair be hurt. If he died, she was the only thing that could keep the spirit of Cypress alive. Besides, the sight of her face never failed to brighten his mood; if he lived, he would be saddened to have lost that.

He recalled a bit of wisdom his father had given him for risky missions like this one: Always keep in mind a good reason to come back alive. Nick smiled to himself. A woman like that being worried about him was a very good reason.

He sprinted across the shrine's main platform. The form of Iom loomed before him, its venomous stench piercing his nostrils.

"The game is over, Iom," he said. "You lose." Dodging Iom's powerful fist, he ripped a wound across the god's chest with the Sword of Hajya.

Iom roared in rage and slammed a fist into Nick. He tumbled backwards, but before he could fully retreat, he was hit with a blast of something concocted from the deepest pits of hell. Iom expunged it through the mouth in its belly, and whatever it was, it made Nick's insides scream and flayed off several layers of skin. His eyes dropping tears of blood, he collapsed.

He felt weak as a kitten for a moment, and then was suddenly restored. Sarah had cast a level 3 heal spell on him. Before he was even fully back to his feet again, however, Iom hit him with another blast of the vile substance. Again he felt demons filling his insides, tearing away at ever fiber of his body, and this time he could not hold back a scream.

There were a few moments of blackness, but he was vaguely aware of Sarah pulling him away, and he could hear Mayfair's voice.

"L-Let me take care of him, Lady Sarah... oh, gods." He felt her lay hands on his chest, and again his organs began to heal. "Oh please, Nick, don't leave me... you're the best friend I have..."

He forced his strained eyes to open and coughed out some blood. "I... would think... my role as Cypress's sovereign... would be a bit more important to you." He gave her a half-smile.

"Nick, for goodness's sake, don't try to talk." Her cheeks were red and moist from her anxiety, but she was still a pleasing sight for his quite literally sore eyes.

And she was right, of course, but he still needed to say something very important. "Chester... on the platform... to Iom's right," he forced out carefully. "May on the... other. Have the strong fighters... take turns... confronting him. Claude can... come from behind. Sarah should keep on healing them... use that white ring you found."

"Yes. Yes, of course."

He grabbed her arm before she could get up. "You and Deanna... keep back."

She nodded reluctantly, then stood up to deliver his orders.

----------------------

It took him what seemed like hours to get up, and doing it at all was maddeningly difficult. But he had to do it. It was his fault Iom had been resurrected, his careless oversight, and his prestige would take a huge blow if he didn't clean up his own mess. He knew he couldn't do it alone, but he would take as big a part as he could.

He grit his teeth at his shaking limbs. "I didn't spend years scheming and fighting for the crown of Cypress just to turn it into a thing of shame. Stand, curse you!"

His stance became steady, and his limbs turned erect. He was clearly still weak from Iom's attack, but he could force his body to obey him.

"Nick! What are you doing?" Mayfair exclaimed.

"Defending my people. Is that not what a king does?" He had dropped the Sword of Hajya not far from Iom; he moved to pick it up. Mayfair stepped in his way.

"You told me to keep back, yet you'll put yourself, our king, at risk!? You've done your part; let the others handle the rest!"

There was no time to argue, and it wouldn't have done any good, anyway; she was nearly hysterical. "You're not thinking rationally, Mayfair. I must do this not only for the lives of our soldiers, but for the honor of our nation. If you love Cypress more than your king, you'll stand aside."

Without another word, he strode towards Iom, gently pushing her out of his way. Thankfully, she made no resistance. He snatched up the Sword of Hajya and ordered Jaha to step away from Iom. The dwarf, who looked like he could use the reprieve, readily complied. The others seemed to be wearing down as well, and May was lying senseless, perhaps dead, on the ground.

Unexpectedly, seeing Iom again made him quiver inside, shuddering with the memory of his nightmarish exhalations. Nick steeled himself and, with a rallying cry of "For Cypress!", he tore into the god's twisted flesh. Chester and Claude re-doubled their efforts, and Dawn joined them. Nick was hit once more with Iom's demonic blast, but Lady Sarah was at the ready and immediately healed him.

After what seemed an hour, but may well have been under a minute, Iom's chest had weakened enough so that Nick could plunge the Sword of Hajya through it and up into his otherwise impenetrable head. At this blow, Iom gave a thunderous moan that shook the walls of the shrine and slowly slipped back into the pit from which he'd sprang.

Chester let out a breath of relief. "I had started believing that he couldn't be beaten."

"Somebody help me with May," Dawn said. "We can't just leave her here."

"I'll pick her up," Nick said. "But you'd better carry her, Dawn. We may need to run."

As he gathered up May, he noticed a voice coming from the sacrificial pit. Warderer's. "It's cold... cold... Am I dying? Huh? Who's calling... who's calling me? Is that you, Iom? You're taking me to Hades? No! I won't go. No!"

He laid May on Dawn's back. She gave a mild groan, and Dawn twitched in surprise. "She's alive! I could have sworn..."

Lashing May to the centaur with remnants of the rope used to tie him up, Nick remarked, "I suppose Warderer is dead. Iom seems to have gone back to Hades." He shook his head in self-recrimination. "But Hindel will never return."

There was a strange noise behind him. He turned around, and there was Deanna, looking as though he was watching his home go down in flames. Some inarticulate gargling came out of his mouth, and for a brief instant Nick was afraid that he couldn't breathe.

Before he could think of anything to say, Deanna swept around him and began darting along the edges of the platform, scanning the sacrificial pit in a frantic search for his brother. At first, Nick thought it would be best to let him satisfy himself that his brother was dead. When Deanna began repeatedly combing the same areas, however, it became too much salt in his wound. He burst out angrily, "Deanna, stop! Searching for him is useless. Hindel is dead."

A rumbling, several times as loud as thunder, shook his thoughts away from Hindel. "What in the world?" A piece of stone fell on the altar to his left. He looked up and saw the ceiling trembling. "The shrine is collapsing. Without Iom's power there's nothing to hold it together. Everyone, out! Now!"

"No!" Deanna protested. "My brother...!"

Nick's first assessment of Deanna's grief had been wrong. There was certainly a childlike need in his voice, but also a purer form of love, a desire to save Hindel for Hindel's own sake. It reminded Nick of how he'd felt when he had to leave his murdered father behind. He could understand how difficult it was for Deanna to flee - to survive.

"Deanna, you must leave this place."

Deanna ignored his exhortations and stood stock still at the edge of the pit, looking out upon his brother's grave.

Natasha ran up to him. "Prince Nick, we need to leave! Hurry; everyone else is already out."

"I can't leave Deanna. He won't move!"

When she turned to see Deanna, her features softened in sympathy. Carelessly dropping her staff on the floor, she went to him. Her hands took gentle hold of his arm. She looked on his face with compassion. It was quite a motherly approach, but her voice was nervous and strained by empathy for his pain; she couldn't pull it off quite right. "Oh... Deanna... here... here... you poor lad." He gave no sign of awareness of her voice, nor her touch. She swallowed. "Deanna. You can't stay here with Hindel, you'll die."

Deanna pulled his arm away from her. "I don't care."

"What do you mean you don't care!?" Natasha exploded, her body suddenly clenching up like a fist. Nick had never seen his young soldier this angry. "You coward! What about your friends? Don't you think they'll mourn your loss? And me..."

Her voice suddenly caught, as though the reality of being without Deanna had just hit her. "I... what will I... do?" She broke away from him, hiding her tears from his cold heart.

_Interesting. Hindel told me Deanna was hot and bothered over her, not the other way around._

This outburst of grief and hurt apparently broke through to Deanna, because he finally turned away from the sacrificial pit and looked at Natasha helplessly. "I..."

Maybe his earlier coldness to her was feigned, Nick considered. Regardless, it was clear that the last thing Deanna had wanted to do was hurt Natasha. He came to stand behind her, his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides, helpless to penetrate the wall brought on by Natasha's bitter sobs.

Nick saw his chance. "Don't you understand, Deanna?" he broke in. "It's not just Natasha, everyone cares for you. They're all waiting outside now, hoping to see you again." Deanna looked back and forth between him and Natasha in confusion. "Let's go, Deanna! You must live for your brother, Hindel."

It was a risky shot, but it worked. Deanna's face snapped into focus. "Yes, you're right!"

Without further delay, the three of them ran from the room. Natasha seemed off-balance, however. She was plainly relieved that Deanna had chosen to live, but she still looked hurt. Nick hoped she wasn't going to let it affect her performance; she was one of the best soldiers he had.

----------------------

Deanna turned around when they reached the end of the room, stopping to cast one last look at his brother's grave. It took Natasha only a few moments to realize he wasn't with them and run back to his side. Taking his hand in hers, she pleaded, "Please, Deanna…"

He turned and looked at her a moment with an unreadable expression, then followed her out of the room. She wasn't sure how her plea had convinced him, but she could tell it wasn't out of any romantic feeling towards her.

_Easy,_ she said to herself, clenching a fist to her heart. _It has to be… just a phase he's going through. He was just worried about Hindel when he found out he had turned traitor, and now he has his death to deal with… that's all. There's still a chance he has feelings for me. It's all going to be okay…_


	21. Chapter 21: Goodbye

- Chapter 21: Goodbye -

Though she wasn't in the mood for it, Natasha had to admit that the victory banquet was an event several times grander than any she'd seen before. Of course, her experience was extremely limited; her family had not been wealthy, so prior to her enlistment she had never been close to nobility and wealth. But the dozens of long tables of rich foods, the six-piece minstrel band, and the scattered bards trying out their embellishments of the war on various members of the army and nobility impressed her nonetheless. She was sorely tempted to partake, but she had something more important to do.

She found Dawn waiting behind Eric at one of the food tables while he put chicken wings on his plate. "Pass me the Guardiana spice, please."

Eric sneered at her, "Why don't you ask one of your squad members to pass it for you?"

Dawn raised a bewildered eyebrow at him. "What's the matter with you?"

"General Mayfair made it quite clear that it was you who requested my transfer to another squad," Eric answered smugly.

"Right. And that was…how many months ago?"

"This is the first time since then that you've tried to act friendly with me."

"So… you're basically saying you haven't had the chance to snub me until now?" While Eric struggled for a retort, she noticed Natasha standing behind her. "Natasha! There you are!"

"Hi," she said, a bit overwhelmed as Dawn gave her a fierce hug with one arm, still holding her plate with the other.

"I'm so glad you showed. Eric was boring me to death."

Eric snorted. "Watch what you say around me. My great-grandsires include -"

"Gods, make him stop!" She stuffed one ear with her free hand, poking at the other with her plate of food.

"…Lord Veron, the nephew of King -"

"Let me take that for you," Natasha said, taking Dawn's plate so that she could cover both ears.

"Thanks. Let's get out of here."

Once they'd found a quiet spot, Dawn remarked, "Ugh. I thought he'd been improving."

"I think he has. He's only been getting into like a tenth of the trouble he used to."

"I'm not talking about his proclivity for cruel, senseless pranks," Dawn said, grimacing. "It's his incessant discussion of his lineage. For a while, he was acting almost centaur. Now he's back at it again. He'll probably be worse than ever, now that he's getting his taste of glory."

"You have to admit, he worked hard to earn it. I think he's outshone every one of the ancestors that he likes to brag about so much."

"Yeah, but why should we have to suffer for his success? Forget it. Let's go meet up with Vyra."

"Just Vyra?"

"Jane's nowhere to be found," Dawn sighed. "Then again, I found you; maybe Vyra's found Jane. Grab yourself some food, and let's go."

She shook her head. "I'm not staying. I just needed to put in an appearance."

"You're kidding me. This is supposed to be our big reunion - the four of us, all together again!"

"Sorry." She lowered her eyes. "But I can't even think of celebrating now… after Deanna just lost his brother."

"Natasha, it's been weeks since we left Iom's shrine. If he hasn't started to move on with his life yet, then you should just let him be."

"Hindel was the only family he had, Dawn! You can't just expect him to -"

"I don't expect anything from Deanna. But you can't let his grief control your life. Do we all have to be sad because Hindel died? Except for Deanna, none of us even met him!" She put a hand on Natasha's shoulder. "You lead us through most of our victories; you've earned this celebration. You've got to live your own life sometime! If you -"

"I know, I know," Natasha said, pushing her hand off. "You're right. You're always right." She turned and walked away. "But you never understand."

----------------------

Natasha brooded as she walked down the halls of Castle Cypress towards the room Mayfair had set aside for Deanna in consideration of the difficult time he was going through. She had tried her best to be a friend to Dawn during their journey, and she felt she'd done a fair enough job of it. More and more, though, she was seeing how opposed their personalities were. It was fine for them to be friends when they were just eating lunch in the mess hall or fixing each other's hair, but when it came down to matters of life or death they were always at odds. Dawn seemed to be okay with that, but Natasha couldn't convince herself to let it go.

It was going to be awkward being back with Jane and Vyra, she realized. She still wanted to be friends with them, but she couldn't be friends with Dawn anymore. So, how were they going to work this? Would she and Dawn quietly avoid talking directly to each other whenever the four of them were together? Would they divide their gatherings, only three of them meeting at a time? Or perhaps it would be simplest to simply kick her out of their little group, since she was technically the one causing the problem?

It was too confusing to worry about for the moment, she decided, and Deanna was her immediate concern. She nervously smoothed the wrinkles in the skirt of her dress, which was sadly the best she had to wear.

_I wish I knew for sure how he feels about me. When I remember how he fought to save me from Woldol, totally heedless of his own safety, my heart pounds... I feel sure he must love me too. But the way he reacted when I told him how I felt... I just don't know._

She realized that part of the reason for Deanna's behavior was the secret that he was an Iomite. Natasha couldn't deny that she'd felt hurt when she learned the truth. Not because she felt his nationality made him an enemy - she could never think of Deanna as an enemy - but because it made him a stranger. She knew nothing of what he'd experienced in Iom, and he hadn't shared it with her. The vast distance suddenly placed between them stung.

When she thought it over, however, she began to understand why Deanna must have felt the need to keep the truth from them. _How alone he must have felt... Fighting against his own countrymen, always afraid that he'd be shunned by the very people he was risking his life to help. Having no one who really understood him besides his brother, and now his brother is dead. How could I have felt angry at him for keeping that secret?_

Any confusion she felt about Deanna was gone now. It didn't matter that there was so much she didn't know about him. She knew enough to know that she loved him: his gentleness, his understanding, his courage, his forgiving nature, his strength. She longed for him to put those strong arms around her... to look back into her eyes with love... to...

She shook herself. _I've done more than enough thinking about my own needs. It's time I did something for Deanna. He was more withdrawn and standoffish than ever when we set out on our return journey, and I accepted that; he obviously wasn't ready to talk to anyone about his loss. Now, though, he'll need someone to comfort him... someone close to him. Whether or not he loves me, I'm the one closest to him right now... and I'm ready to be there for him for as long as he needs._

She turned the corner into the hall where Deanna's room lay. Her steps came to an immediate halt then; she heard Prince Nick's voice.

"...here? Let me assure you, no one holds your background against you. You fought for Cypress; that's all that matters. We all count you as one of us."

"That's... that's not why I'm leaving. I need to... to go home, to Iom." Natasha threw a hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp.

"I understand it's hard for you to adjust. Especially... after..."

"It's... not hard. It's just that I... don't want to..."

She didn't wait to hear any more; she knew Deanna well enough to tell that he was not going to be dissuaded, and she wasn't interested in his reasons. All that mattered was that he was leaving her. She ran down the halls to escape his words. Unconsciously she headed to the young women's dormitory, but consciously she could only think of how she would now have to go on without Deanna.

Tears broke from her eyes. _I'm a fool... a stupid little fool... he never -_

Several of the halls in the upper levels of Castle Cypress passed along the outer wall. These halls each opened up to a short passage that extended into a balcony overlooking the surrounding lands. Natasha was running past one of these passages, and out of the corner of her eye she spied someone there. She stopped short, and in a moment's gaze surmised why Jane wasn't at the victory banquet.

It was Jane and Theo, arms wrapped around each other, mouths joined in a loving embrace. Their eyes were closed, both blissfully unaware of anything around them. In spite of Theo's acute ugliness, they made a charming pair.

A raging urge to rudely interrupt their passion hit Natasha. She wanted to embarrass them, to mock Jane's idealistic romanticism, to laugh at Theo's pitifully misshapen face. To stop herself from giving in to the urge, she ran from them. More and more tears ran down her face as she wailed to herself, over and over, _Why her and not me? Why them and not us?_

She burst into the dormitory without wariness, but everyone was at the victory banquet, as she'd expected. She flung herself onto her bed and cried as though she would never stop.

_I have no one now. Deanna's leaving, my friendship with Dawn and Jane and Vyra is falling apart, my love for Prince Nick was just a shadow of the real thing… Mom, Dad… I'm really all alone now._

----------------------

Thoughts of Natasha flickered across Deanna's mind. She was even more kind and forgiving than he'd thought; despite knowing that he was an Iomite, she still had wept for him to stay alive. She was truly an angel of sweetness and mercy.

But though she said she loved him, Deanna held no illusions that he could make her happy. The truth about him would still haunt her every time she looked at him. More importantly, though he'd grown in many ways, he still didn't know how to provide a woman with love and support. Natasha deserved far more than he could give. Apart from everything else, the sooner he left, the less she would be hurt.

King Nicholas sat back in his chair with perceptible weariness. "Perhaps you could simply tell me why you're leaving."

Deanna fidgeted, pushing about the sheets on the bed. He knew what he wanted to say, but he didn't know the words. He looked over at the empty chair, wondering if sitting the same way as the king would give him confidence. Maybe it would, but having so little room to fidget in would be too uncomfortable, he decided.

"I'm waiting."

He opened his mouth two seconds before he knew what he was going to say. "Why didn't… I mean, why aren't Chester and May… at the victory banquet?"

King Nicholas frowned. "They went straight back home to Emild. Their country is in disrepair since their king was assassinated; they're needed there."

Deanna nodded. "Iom… went through worse."

The king was silent a moment. "I see. Listen." He stood up. Deanna watched him. "Cypress needs you, too. And you'd be welcome here. I'm sure that everyone will want you to stay. From what Hindel told me, you don't have any friends in Iom."

"That's… true." He took a deep breath. "But… much as I wish it were… Cypress isn't my home. I can't discard the land of my birth like an outgrown tunic just because I don't like the condition it's in, or the things it's done. Iom was the country that raised me… and it's time I gave something back. I have to live for Hindel, like you said. And this is what Hindel would have wanted me to do."

"I think Hindel simply wanted you to be happy, Deanna. His love for you wasn't conditional upon you one day making something of yourself."

"Well, I can't be happy here. I couldn't live with myself… knowing I'd abandoned my own people."

King Nicholas reached out a hand and grasped Deanna's arm. "That's a natural feeling to have, but you aren't seeing things clearly right now. If you take your chance to be in a place you love, before long you'll find that you can live with yourself quite easily. I doubt you'll be able to say the same if you resign yourself to misery and struggle."

Deanna sighed. "Your Highness…you're a remarkable man, and… in the short time I've known you, I've come to respect you a great deal. But you don't know me, and I don't think you ever will."

"…No, I suppose I won't." He returned to his seat. "I can't imagine what it's like to belong to a country that you can't be proud of."

"Maybe someday Iom will be a country to be proud of. But not if good Iomites don't try to change things."

Prince Nick blinked. "You've certainly changed a lot, if what Hindel told me about you is true."

"…Mayfair and Natasha have been a good influence on me."

"They're going to miss you, Deanna. All of the Cypress force will."

Deanna looked away. "I think they won't. And it doesn't really matter… I don't belong here. This is the land of heroes… people like Natasha, and Randolf, and Mayfair. Iom is the land for people like me."

"You're either being incredibly unfair to yourself, or you're fishing for a compliment, Deanna."

"Like I said… you don't know me."

"If you think defeating King Warderer to save a people not your own doesn't make you a hero… Never mind." King Nicholas gracefully rose to his feet. "We're obviously getting nowhere here, so I'll just ask you one more thing. You do realize that Hindel didn't mean any of the things he said to you before you left for Iom, don't you?"

It took Deanna a minute to even remember exactly what the king was referring to. In order to toughen him up, Hindel had been trying for years to convince Deanna that he didn't love him. It was the one thing his older brother had failed miserably at. "Yes, I… of course I realize that."

"Then that's all I have to say to you for now. I'll head off to the banquet. Might I ask you one favor, though?"

He nodded.

"Stay here just one more week. Think things over."

"I've been thinking things over the whole trip back from Iom's shrine," Deanna answered. "But as a favor to you, I'll stay two more days."

"Fair enough." He turned to leave.

"Your Highness…"

"Yes?"

"Have you… noticed Natasha? She's lead the Cypress army… far better than General Mayfair or I could. And she's braver than any of us. I don't know if I could count how many times she's put herself right in the path of danger for the good of Cypress. She loves Cypress so much… I think it's partly because of how much she loves its people. There's no woman so loving and caring. She -" He stopped short when Prince Nick began chuckling.

"Are you trying to match me up with Natasha, Deanna?"

He blushed, ashamed that he'd been so easily caught out. "Yes."

"As charming as that idea is, you're wasting your time." He gave Deanna a knowing wink. "Her heart already belongs to someone else."

A frustrated and mildly confused frown fell across Deanna's face. "I don't know who you're talking about, Your Highness, but you're… greatly mistaken. She told me of her love for you, and… I'm convinced she could never love anyone as much as you."

Prince Nick chuckled again. "You think I'm a fool, don't you? I heard what she said to you in Iom's shrine. But never mind. Regardless of Natasha's feelings, I'm the king of Cypress. A king doesn't have the luxury of marrying for love."

"Natasha would be a perfect queen for Cypress."

"I'm sure she'd be pleased to know you think so -"

"No! I mean… Forgive me, Your Highness, but what we've said here has to stay between us."

"Of course. As I was saying, though, Natasha wouldn't be a suitable queen."

"Why not?" Deanna demanded.

"For one thing, she's too young," the king said, putting a hand to the doorframe to lean against it. "It's a bad image for a king to marry a girl who isn't roughly his age. For another, while Natasha is quick-thinking and intelligent, she isn't at all what I would call wise. And thirdly, when one is trying to sire an heir to the throne, it's very helpful to be married to a woman that one considers physically attractive."

Deanna blushed furiously. "I… I hope Your Highness would never say something like that with women around."

"Of course not." He lifted his hand from the doorframe and turned to leave. "Sorry to disappoint you, Deanna, but I've already found the ideal choice for my queen. Come on out to the banquet when you get a chance."

Deanna sighed. He'd hoped that he could provide for Natasha's happiness by pointing King Nicholas in her direction. But the king was plainly a fool. To have a chance with a woman like Natasha, and throw it away just for the sake of…

He stiffened in sudden realization, then laughed quietly. _I guess Prince Nick and I do have something in common. We're both sacrificing our paradise to do our duty._

----------------------

Natasha was pulled up from her bed by the sound of the door opening. There stood Mayfair. She ran into her arms, her sobs renewed, but this time gratitude was mixed in with her sorrow. _I was wrong… I'm not alone. I still have Mayfair._

Mayfair stroked her head, brought her back to the bedside. "You poor child."

Laying her head in Mayfair's lap, she wept, "Mayfair… please, don't ever leave me."

"I'll always be here for you, Natasha. But you're too full of life to waste much more time with an old maid like me." She caressed her fingers through her hair. "Soon you'll want to spend your life with someone else, and my part in your life will become almost insignificant. And for your sake, Natasha, I look forward to that day."

Natasha shook her head fiercely. "No. That can't happen now… Deanna's leaving."

"So, you did hear."

She looked up from Mayfair's lap. "You knew?"

"Prince Nick just told me. I came here because I thought it would be easiest if you heard it from me."

"So you knew how I feel about Deanna. Great." She dropped her head back in Mayfair's lap. "I guess everyone knows, then."

"I don't think so." She resumed running her fingers through Natasha's hair. "You should let Deanna know."

"I _did_ let Deanna know! He… doesn't care."

Mayfair said nothing for a long while. When she finally broke the silence, her voice was no longer gently nurturing, but steady and firm. "I don't think you're being fair to him. It's not as though he doesn't want to stay -"

"Then why doesn't he? Why is he leaving when he knows I need him?" She pulled away from Mayfair and flopped back on her bed. "Iom is his home, but home isn't as important as the people you love. When you love someone, you want to be with them no matter where they are. But he doesn't love me... so he's leaving." A large sob came up from her throat, taking her by surprise.

"Natasha." Mayfair took hold of her hand. "You know it can't be that simple... not for someone like Deanna. You should talk to him. Tell him how you feel, and listen to how _he_ feels." She bent down to kiss her brow. "However this works out, I want you to know that I'm here for you."

Natasha made no reply, so she stood and left.

Several minutes later, Natasha suddenly sat up, blinked her eyes clear, and headed for Mayfair's study. She knocked when she arrived, but as she'd expected, no one was there.

She opened the door and went in. Carefully digging through the many papers, scrolls, and oddities sitting in piles about the room, she dug out a blank piece of paper. She set it on the desk, drew a pen from its inkwell, and sat down to begin writing. She thought of all the things Deanna meant to her. With an unsteady hand, she scrawled out:

"Dear Deanna:

I can tell that you have made up your mind too leave, and that nothing and no one here is important enough to you to make you want to stay. But know that at your leaving, my heart is breaking. In the few precious months I have known you, you have become my friend, my comforter, and my greatest joy. No one else has brought to life in me the feelings that you have. For the weeks before we arrived at Iom's shrine, the only things I looked forward to were seeing you and talking to you. Now that you are going, my life already seems shallow and pointless in comparison to my time with y"

Natasha stopped in mid-word to again dip the pen in the inkwell. When she returned to the paper, the point of the pen froze just above it as she looked at what she had written. After hovering there a moment, she returned the pen to the inkwell and crumpled the paper into a ball in her hands.

"No," she said firmly. "I won't hurt him like this. If he's determined to leave... then all I can do is make it as easy for him as I can." _I just wish he'd let me do something more for him... I love him so much._ She held the ball of paper away from herself and said, "Blaze." It promptly burned.

The tiny flame bit into her hand, but she remembered the lesson May had taught her. "When you know a spell really well, you can ride its effect... dull the impact..." Wincing slightly at the pain in her hand, she whispered, "Does that work with heartache, too?"

She dropped the ashes into the waste tin and left Mayfair's study. "Don't see why not," she answered herself, wiping away a small tear.

----------------------

"And now he's locked himself up in his room," Nick said in frustration. "He refuses to see anyone but me. Ideas, Gyan?"

"You emphasized that there's an appointment to lieutenant waiting for him, right?"

Nick shook his head. "That would be counter productive. As a matter of fact, I suspect that after I've convinced him to stay, my next challenge will be convincing him to accept that appointment." He raised his eyes from the floor to Gyan. "I was thinking of emphasizing Natasha."

Gyan frowned. "Natasha?"

"You didn't notice the attraction between them?"

"Attraction? Her for him, maybe. Deanna struck me as an ice block."

"He hides it well," Nick agreed. "I think she's part of the reason he's leaving. He seems to be angry at her."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. Very likely because she told him that she's in love with me."

"What? Why would she tell him that?"

Nick smiled with contempt - though not for his present company. "Isn't it obvious? To make him jealous." He shook his head. "Love is full of idiocy."

Gyan grunted. "So you patch things up between them, and he'll stay?"

"Maybe." Nick turned and stared at a bookshelf. "I've tried every other sort of persuasion on him. And if he still wants to leave... well, at least I'll have given him some small bit of happiness. He deserves that, after what I let happen to his brother."

"Nick, that wasn't your fault."

"Warderer was a fine tactician, Gyan, and a visionary mystic," Nick said distantly. "But his personality was absolutely transparent. I should have seen that he would snap before he would bend. If I hadn't been so busy contemplating the brilliance of my plan, I would have." He closed his eyes and let his head rest. "I believe that very clearly makes it my fault."

----------------------

The hardest part for Deanna was the loneliness. It wasn't a sensation he was very familiar with; for most of his life, most of the company he had was unpleasant. The only person he'd wanted to be with was Hindel. Now that he'd locked himself in the room he was staying in, the better to accustom everyone to the fact that he was going, he realized that he'd prefer to be with almost anyone in Castle Cypress than to be alone. He wished he could hear someone talking. Even Luke.

Most of all, he missed Natasha. It always felt so good to be with someone so kind and gentle. Though he'd grown stronger in the past months, he appreciated that no less. He ached for her presence. Sighing, he told himself that at least this was helping him adjust to the difficulty of the days to come. It wouldn't be easy, struggling to help others without her.

A knock came at his door. "Deanna, it's me."

He got up and unlocked the door. Prince Nick had a large sack slung over one shoulder, which he deposited on the floor. "I procured you some extra clothes and provisions. It pays to be safe." Deanna nodded, and he added, "A lot of people have been wanting to see you, you know. Mayfair, Eric, Jaha, Graham, Dawn, Jane..."

"Natasha?"

The king smiled. "No. Suppose I told you, though, that she wants you to stay more than anyone?"

"It wouldn't... change my mind, if that's what you mean."

"I see. So Iom does mean that much to you."

Deanna nodded. He hefted up the sack the king had brought him and said, "Thank you... for this. For everything."

"If you're so thankful," Prince Nick said, displaying an open palm, "...why not show that gratitude, and serve me here?"

The king went on for several more minutes. Deanna gave smiling nods to everything he said, but he'd lost interest in his arguments. He had to go, and nothing King Nicholas could say could change that - and they both knew it. For whatever reason, the king was going through the formality of making every effort to convince him to stay. Ultimately, Deanna began to feel a bit awkward pretending to listen. Without a word, he left the room and walked towards the gate of Castle Cypress.

Prince Nick caught up with him just as he stepped outside. "You still want to leave? Are you sure you won't change your mind?"

Weary of this, Deanna gave a faint nod.

"I'll say no more," he surrendered. "It would be futile. I can't change your mind." He turned to survey everyone in the vicinity: a surprisingly large number of castle guards, and General Mayfair. At first there was no sign of Natasha, but then Deanna noticed her standing at a distance, her back to him. His heart sighed at being unable to see her lovely face one last time, but it was for the best. "People of Cypress, Deanna will be leaving us. Let us wish him luck."

Prince Nick's advisor cum bodyguard stepped forward and gripped his hand with a tremendous paw. "It'll be lonely around here without you, Deanna. Think of me and all your friends in Cypress once in a while."

This familiarity puzzled Deanna. He'd known this massive beast for far less time than any of the Cypressians, and in that time he'd kept his distance from the others. He was ashamed to admit that he couldn't even remember his name. _It was something short, snappy..._ He offered a polite nod. In truth, he doubted he'd be able to _not_ think of his Cypress friends if he wanted to.

Eric, who happened to be one of the guards standing nearby, called out, "We'll never forget you." Deanna barely withheld a blush at this compliment. Eric wasn't the sort to dole out praise to others.

Once Prince Nick's advisor stepped aside, Deanna walked past the others without a glance. It felt good: a clean, painless goodbye. He was about to step off the Castle Cypress grounds when Mayfair called out, "Deanna, wait."

----------------------

To keep from doing anything rash, Natasha hid herself in a wall of unconcern for Deanna. She told herself she didn't care, and that if he wanted to abandon them like this then he'd damn well better not expect a misty-eyed goodbye.

The wall was all too easily broken. Mayfair said to her gently, "Natasha, do you have something to say to Deanna? When he leaves, you may never see him again."

_...never see him again..._ She swallowed. "I..."

Stupidly, she turned to look at Deanna, as if that would help her decide what to say. He was watching her, which made her blush and look away. _Gods, I just want to tell him everything I'm feeling. Even though he doesn't love me, I know he'd try to make me feel better..._

Her indecision was unbearable. She ran to Prince Nick, afraid of keeping Deanna waiting too long. Prince Nick smiled as she came. "You're supposed to speak to Deanna, not me."

"I can't do this," she hissed out through her teeth, all too aware that everyone must be watching her now. "He's a good person; he'll feel guilty if I tell him how much I want him to stay."

"But you still want to tell him," Nick observed. "You'll be creating a permanent lie between you and him if you don't."

"But if the lie keeps him from being hurt..." She buried her left eye in her palm, the fingers clenched. "Oh, I don't know what to do..."

Prince Nick put his hand on her sleeve and squeezed her arm reassuringly. "Natasha, follow your heart."

Those words were all she needed to hear. Her head may have been confused about the right thing to do, but Natasha's heart pointed in only one direction. She turned and made for Deanna as though he were the last train bound for heaven.

----------------------

Deanna stood in place, uncomprehendingly watching Natasha running towards him, until her foot suddenly caught on a rock. His stomach clenched as she slammed hard into the earth.

"Ohhh..." She sobbed helplessly, too miserable to pick herself off the ground. "It's not fair... leaving me like this. Don't you care about me?"

Deanna was already running to her, his heart burning with self-loathing. _I thought I could keep from hurting her... stupid, stupid... I've hurt her as much now as anyone could. How could I let this happen to her?_

He bent down to help her up, taking her hand in his left and wrapping his right arm about her torso. He knew it was presumptuous of him to touch her like this, but it felt natural and right. Streaks of dirt besmirched her face, some of them soaking up tears. The fact that everyone was watching her didn't escape him. He wished more than anything that he could suffer her pain and humiliation in her stead.

"No, that's not it at all!" he answered her. "I... I care about you more than..." He bit his lip, seeing her face staring up at his, waiting. _Dammit! What point is there in hiding it now?_ "...more than any... I love you! I want to be with you forever, but I can't, don't you understand? I have to pay back all the things I've been given, all my failures, and Iom is the place that needs me now, the place where I belong... and..."

He swallowed, and continued in a low voice, "I'm not the person you think I am. I was going to betray you all to Iom when we got near the shrine. If Hindel hadn't made me ashamed by the sacrifice he made for me, or if I hadn't been unwilling to hurt you... I'd have gone through with it. Because I've never thought of anyone but myself. Before I met you, I was the most despicable person in the world. You don't want someone like me to be with you... you're be-"

Both his flow of words and his train of thought were halted by Natasha's lips suddenly pressing against his.

It was hardly the first time he'd been kissed by a girl his age. Before coming to Cypress, the girls he'd hung out with used him for practice when they found a boy they liked. These kisses were invariably awkward, and Deanna had said so to a girl that he felt particularly comfortable with. She told him that first kisses were always that way. He supposed this was because, no matter how attractive the boy they were kissing, there was always a bit of disgust for the act of giving love to him.

There was nothing awkward about this kiss, no hesitation in the way Natasha clung to his shoulder with one hand, pulling her body against his. Every ounce of affection she had seemed to be melting into him, yet even more surprising than her ardor was her certainty. Taken away by the feelings now breaking loose from inside, he held her and wished they could stay like this forever. Everything felt wonderful in a way he'd never known before.

Though so much seemed to have happened, Deanna was faintly aware that the kiss lasted only a few seconds before she released him. He tried rallying a protest, but she was well ahead of him.

"See this?" Natasha demanded, pinching the air in front of his face. "This is how much any of those things matter to me. This is how much difference they make to how I feel about you. I love you... _you_. You may have lied to me and hurt me, but you couldn't make yourself seem like someone special unless you really were different than anyone I've ever known. That's all that matters to me. Deanna, I'm going with you; I don't care what you say."

She said this last statement loud enough for everyone to hear, and Deanna fancied he saw a few jaws dropping out of the corner of his eye. He himself could scarcely believe that in spite of it all, she would still leave home and any possibility of a comfortable life behind just to be with him.

His mind warred with itself, one voice telling him that this was wrong, that Natasha deserved better than a life of struggle in a land foreign to her, while the other sang with the experience of her love, begged for the chance to be with her forever. But in a moment he silenced both voices, reminding himself that it wasn't his decision to make; it was hers. He slowly nodded his head in assent, and her eyes smiled up at him.

She looked like she wanted to kiss him again, but she hadn't quite forgotten that everyone was there. Though they seemed to be keeping enough distance so that they couldn't hear what the two of them were saying, their gestures of affection could scarcely be missed. Blushing slightly, Deanna slipped his hand into hers. She held it fast.

Jaha called out, "This is getting too mushy for me. Deanna, don't forget we're your friends too. We shouldn't have to see this stuff."

The dwarf's joke produced very few laughs, but it did deepen Deanna's blush. He gave Jaha an awkward smile, grateful for the friendliness he and the others had extended to him. There was no way he could repay them for the way they'd freely given their friendship to him, save by doing the same for others.

He looked back to Natasha. "Are... are you ready?"

She nodded. Still holding hands, they walked out from Castle Cypress into the world beyond.

----------------------

"There they go," Mayfair said with a sigh. Nick noticed a tear coming down her face.

"It's always hard to say goodbye," he said. "Try and think of it from her point of view, Mayfair. She's found her happiness."

She turned to him and smiled. "That's exactly what I was thinking, Nick. Not all tears are sad tears."

He let his gaze linger on her eyes, which shone with a new and brilliant loveliness from her joy, and smiled back. "I wouldn't know."

"Well, Nick," Gyan said, "...let me be the first to say, bravo! In one stroke, you've lost both of Cypress's two great heroes of the war with Iom. How does it feel?"

Her eyes sharpening with anger, Mayfair opened her mouth to deliver some choice words to Gyan, but Nick held up a hand to stop her. Then, smirking, he pinched the air before him.

"See this, Gyan?"


	22. Epilogue: Hello

- Epilogue: Hello -

They kissed again, reveling in their fresh awareness of their love for each other.

This time was more lingering than the first, and when their lips broke she remained in his arms for a few moments more, each looking into the other's eyes. What they both saw there was that, after all they'd been through together, they were still largely strangers. She knew nothing of the things he'd grown up with in Iom, nor why or when he had decided to fight for Cypress, nor the depth of the meekness that she had helped him defeat, but not destroy. He knew nothing of the things she'd grown up with in Cypress, nor the friendships she'd left behind at the castle, nor the source of her compassion.

They each knew what the other was, but not why. There was so much to learn. And so, each looking into the other's face, they wordlessly bid a fond hello and good morning. The inner secrets of their hearts were open for the exploring. And though the world outside them was war-torn and stirring with bitterness, the road ahead of them hard, between them there was love, hope, and strength. Perhaps that would be enough.

Hand in hand, they walked forward into their shared future.

END


End file.
